


Beneath the Red Moon of Darkover   -  (English translation by k8ec)

by mikimac



Category: Darkover Series - Marion Zimmer Bradley, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crossover, F/M, Kidnapping, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-04-13 16:36:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 84,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4529244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikimac/pseuds/mikimac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a cold and distant planet where technology is not possible and powers of the mind characterize powerful people, Sherlock Lewis Holmes Alton and John Regis Watson Di Asturien are two boys fated to save their world – Darkover. But at what cost?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Your Song

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Johnlock Tale from Darkover](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3757471) by [mikimac](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikimac/pseuds/mikimac). 



> I was asked to translate the story I'm writing set in the world of Darkover.  
> I'm Italian, I do not work as a translator, so I apologize if there are (as I’m sure) any errors.  
> I hope that the translation is sufficient to enable you to understand the history of the world and to appreciate it, regardless.  
> The story and the backgrounds are inspired by the Marion Zimmer Bradley “Darkover” saga and the characters of the series "Sherlock" from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss.  
> Hopefully I have been able to keep them in character. Any situations or ideas similar to other stories are completely unintentional.  
> This chapter is designed to present the Darkover universe for those unfamiliar with the stories.  
> The story follows the growth and development of John and Sherlock from birth to the ages of 26 years and 24 years respectively.
> 
> This is a new editing of “Johnlock Tale from Darkover”.
> 
> My English is very terrible, but k8ec took care of the edit and corrected all my mistakes.  
> I thank k8ec very much for her help and work.
> 
> Happy reading.

Beneath the Red Moon of Darkover  
(English translation by k8ec)  
mikimac

Chapter 1: Your Song  


Distant past.

Earth was a heavily populated and technologically advanced planet

To rectify its chronic overpopulation, humanity expanded throughout the Galaxy in several waves of migrations. Through a technical fault, one of the first migration ships found itself completely off course.

The spacecraft, damaged and unable to either go back or to reach its intended destination, was forced to land on the fourth planet of the system Cottman - the only planet in the system capable of sustaining human life.

The planet, almost as big as the Earth, was characterized by a harsh, cold climate for most of the year, due mostly to its red sun. The summers were very brief; life was possible only in the equatorial zone, and the magnetic characteristics of the planet interfered with the operation of electronic equipment rendering it useless. Moreover, the night sky shone with four moons.

With the passage of time, the hope of the aid from the Earth vanished.

Unable to leave this desolate and often inhospitable new world, the survivors named it Darkover and eventually came into contact with the sentient native races, the Chieri.

The Chieri were an elf-like humanoid race, long-lived, but endangered. They were beautiful, ethereal and with considerable mental powers, which they called Laran.

Relationships between Chieri and some of the humans resulted in the awakening latent mental powers, which the Chieri taught them to use, amplify and control through special stones called matrices which resonated with the powers of the holder.

There was a downside to their use, however. Removing the stones from their owners could result in death or permanent brain damage.

With the passage of time, memory of their arrival on the planet was completely lost.

The settlers that carried mind powers became the rulers of the new world and were known as the Comyn.

The Comyn was comprised of several families all characterized by different powers; but in addition to their family ‘talent’, all of them were telepaths. To learn how to use properly use their powers, the children with Laran were sent to Towers, where they were trained by the Custodians or Leronis.

After a period of peace between the families, a violent war for absolute power resulted in the towers making deadly matrix weapons.

This period, called the Age of Chaos, ended when the Tower of Hali was attacked and the telepaths inside, unable to do anything to save themselves, telepathically transmitted their own suffering and death to every human.

The horror was so great that all the great families except the Aldaran signed the Pact Varzin, which made the use of any weapon which could injure or kill at a distance greater than an arm’s length illegal and ordered the destruction of all matrix weapons created by the Towers.

Following the Age of Chaos, the Seven Kingdoms were created - each governed by one of the great families.

The current political structure of Darkover is as follows:

House Ehlalyn – Rulers of Darkover in name; however, most if not all living members are mentally incompetent.

House Hastur – Regents of Darkover - the actual rulers in the absence of a functioning Ehlalyn. Their trait is to be living matrices.

House Alton - potentially the most dangerous of the houses. Carriers of the house trait are able to force rapport with any other person; i.e. using Voice Command to force anyone to do what they want.

House Ardais - Catalysts, able to awaken latent Laran.

House Aillard - the only family in which power is transmitted via maternal line. Mind traits are recessive in males of the house.

House Ridenow - empathetic;

House Aldaran - the ability to foresee all possible futures.

There are minor families with different Laran, but they have no political influence. In-breeding between the great families has meant that the strength of Laran has been decreasing. If a Hastur or Alton heir with pure (full strength) Laran arose, they would be virtually omnipotent.

 

After a long period of peace, Darkover was re-discovered by Earth ships exploring remote areas of the galaxy. The newcomers (or Terrani) were given permission to build a base in the territory of Aldaran family, as the magnetic effects were minor and did not interfere with electronics. Their spacecraft that landed there were unable to fly anywhere else on the planet.

The Terrani were fascinated by the mind powers and they wanted to learn their secrets.

(From: "Saga of Darkover" of Marion Zimmer Bradley)

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Today ...

 

Castle Armida:

The Bridegroom was pacing in the middle of the room filled with relatives, friends, allies and strangers.  
Even if he was nervous, it would not do to let them see.

 

He was tall, lean, with hair as black as pitch. His blue eyes kept darting to the door to the room, waiting for her to arrive.

This was the wedding of the year: two of the most important families of the Comyn celebrating their alliance through the marriage of the heir of one family with the daughter of the head of the other.

Their children would be heirs to great power, both material and mental.

Eileen Yllana Sherman Ardais entered the room in an exquisitely stylish white dress, which emphasized the perfect figure. Her blond hair was arranged in an elaborate style that left the neck covered.

Her father led her to her betrothed.

"I, Mycroft Dyan Ardais Sherman, give in marriage my daughter, Eileen Yllana, to you Rafael Kennard Alton Holmes, to be mother to your children and loving wife to her husband.”

It had been ages since an Alton of pure power had been born. The elderly Head of the family desired an heir with whom he could dethrone the Hastur Regent and enable the family to take the Regency he felt they were entitled to as the family with the most powerful Laran.

But above all, he sought revenge for the death of his son.

He cared very little that his nephew Rafael did not share his plans - he had no choice but to obey!

Moreover, even old Ardais had liked his proposal and agreed to support his ambitions! Together, they would change the hierarchy of the Comyn families.

This ceremony, held in the immense fortified residence of the Alton, was nothing more than a display of their power against Hastur.

He watched smugly as the priest wrapped the wedding bracelet around the wrists of the young couple. The Alton’s time had finally arrived!

That night Castle Armida rang with the sounds of the wedding celebration until the coming of dawn.

A few months later came the announcement that Eileen was pregnant, and on an early spring afternoon, Mycroft Holmes Damon Alton issued his first cry.

 

Comyn castle - Five years later.

The brief, bright and overwhelming Darkovan spring had arrived.

The Castle of the Comyn had been decorated for the occasion with the most beautiful flowers. The aromas issuing from the kitchen from the early morning indicated that dinner would be worthy of the occasion, the marriage of Deanna Winston Liriel Hastur, favourite niece of the Regent, and Mikhail Danilo Redcliff Aillard - as collateral for a political agreement beneficial to their families.

The dance was in full swing. All were enjoying themselves, waiting for the moment when the elderly would go to bed, leaving the young to frolick in the light of the four moons that lit up the night.

Liriel was on the large terrace, sadly watching the largest of the moons. The evening was cool and she felt the chill on her body, but ignored it.

Suddenly someone put his jacket over her shoulder. Liriel did not need to turn around to see that the warm and comfortable jacket belonged to Gabriel Alderic Watson Di Asturien.

"You'll catch your death, my love,” he said.

"Do you think my father would care?" Liriel asked angrily.

Gabriel leaned against the terrace railing and smiled: "I don’t claim to know what your father thinks, but I definitely prefer you healthy."

Liriel gave a small smile and looked at him with sad eyes. "Why can’t we have our dreams?"

Gabriel looked away to not get carried away from the blue depths of her eyes so sad: "What could I possibly offer you, my darling? I am the younger son of one of the least powerful families of the Comyn. Mikhail is not bad. I was his attendant, at least he will respect you. "

"Yes, I know” Liriel agreed; “Mikhail is polite and courteous, but he doesn’t love me. I think he would much prefer to marry my brother Danvar."

Gabriel looked at her sideways: "I think so too, but I fear that it is not a feasible option for your parents."

Suddenly, Liriel gave into her despair, burying her face in Gabriel’s shoulder.

"Let's run away, Gabriel! Please! Take me away!"

He took her hands: "I have nothing to offer you apart from myself."

"Is that not enough?" Liriel said.

Gabriel turned to stare into her eyes. "You'll be sorry later, Liriel."

She whispered, "If I'm with you, I do not care about anything else."

Gabriel took her hand and they fled from the Castle of the Comyn.

 

Tower Neskaya - Two weeks later.

 

The man with white-streaked red hair was striding through the corridors of the tower. It wasn’t necessary to be gifted with laran to know that Caryl Rakhal Winston Hastur was angry.

Very angry.

Walking a few steps behind him was a slightly older man with a sad expression, to whom he was obviously related.

Regis Hastur Garris Winston was very close to his brother and, not having any children, loved his brother’s children as if they were his own.

Realizing that Liriel would never be happy with Mikhail, Regis had unsuccessfully tried to persuade his brother to give up his goal to tie House Aillard to Hastur via a marriage between the two children.

After all, old man Alton was dead and Rafael was proving more reasonable grandfather.

The Lord Hastur had been deeply attached to Rafael’s father, Kennard, and had been very happy to reconnect with the House of Alton.

When Caryl burst into the room, Liriel and Gabriel were standing by the fireplace that warmed the room with its roaring fire.

"What gave you the idea that it would be okay to kidnap my daughter?!" shouted the man.

Gabriel stepped in front of Liriel, "Lord Caryl, I love your daughter."

"Love!” Caryl said, as if it were a dirty word, “I gave my word of honor to the Aillard that there would be a wedding and you kidnapped my daughter!"

"I was not kidnapped!” intervened furious Liriel “I escaped with Gabriel in order not to marry that mollusc you chose for me!"

Caryl turned red.

Regis, fearing he might have a heart attack, interjected: "Bredu please, calm down!”

He turned to his niece; “Liriel, you should have spoken up if you did not want to marry, not run away as if you were a common criminal."

"I told my father that I did not want to marry that man, Uncle, but he wouldn’t listen. He thought only of the political gain from the marriage, not my happiness."

Caryl snorte,: "Happiness! What do you want with happiness? You're only a girl. It's my job to find a man who can take care of you, ensure a peaceful future and be a good father to your children."

Liriel's voice was icy: "Yes, father, I know this part. But I do not love the man you chose."

Caryl grunted: "Learn to love him, as I did with your mother."

"But I do not want to become old before I fall in love with my husband!” Liriel retorted, “In fact, I already love my husband."

An icy silence fell in the room.

Caryl opened and closed his mouth unable to ask the question that had flashed to his mind.

Regis noticed the bracelets and ran a hand over his face: "Have you only privately exchanged vows or were you married by a Keeper?"

The voice that came from behind the two brothers caught them completely by surprise. It was his tower and it had been strange that he had not been in the room on their arrival.

"I married them,” Winston Felix Beltran Hastur, the third of the brothers said, “And no one can dissolve this bond, except by death."

Regis grabbed Caryl’s wrist before he could pounce on Beltran.

Caryl then turned to his daughter, furious: "You have made your choice, Liriel. You have chosen to disobey your father, to dishonor your family by marrying this Di Asturien. To me you're dead. I do not ever want to see you again."

That said, he turned his back on his daughter and left the room.

Liriel slumped into the arms of her husband.

Regis and Beltran were stunned as neither of them expected such a strong reaction. They knew that Caryl was furious, but once the marriage was a fait accompli, they had thought that he would forgive his daughter and son-in-Law.

Gabriel looked at Regis, the hurt pride had given way to sorrow for the pain caused to his wife.

"I'll take care of Liriel and our children without the Hastur,” he said. “We’ll never bother him again."

And he turned his back to the Regent to embrace his wife.

Regis knew it was not the right time to talk, so he followed his brother, hoping that the anger would subside in a few days.

Regis’ plans could not be realized, however. When he finally managed to convince Caryl to make peace with his daughter, Liriel and Gabriel had already left and no one knew where they had gone.

 

Monti Hellers - One year later:

 

It was a cold winter’s day when Harriet Romilda Watson Di Asturien entered the world.

She was the first child of Liriel and Gabriel Watson, a young couple who had moved to the remote village at the foot of the second highest mountains on Darkover a year previously.

No one in the village was aware of the noble origins of the young couple.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Monti Hellers - Six years later:

 

The newcomers’ child had grown into a blonde, vivacious little girl. The young couple were happy and content, even though life was hard and they had little in the way of luxuries.

Gabriel had feared that Liriel would have regrets, but she was truly happy; she didn’t need luxury when she had the love of her husband and daughter.

Their happiness bcame complete when Liriel gave birth to their second child, a boy they named John Regis Watson Di Asturien.

John too was born in the middle of winter.

A snow storm had buffeted the foothills of the Hellers for days, but when John was born, the snow–laden clouds gave way to a sky of intense blue in which the sun shone redly.

As he grew, everyone who knew him swore that the sky that day had gifted him with its own colors – blond hair with red highlights and cornflower blue eyes.

 

Castel Armida - Two years after:

 

They thought that they would not have any other children, that Mycroft would be their sole heir.

Not that they were dissatisfied with their firstborn. Indeed, Mycroft had been shown to have above-average intelligence! He also had the gift of Alton, but not at full strength, for which Rafael was glad - the power of his family was too dangerous.

So, they were very surprised when they found out that Eileen was pregnant once more.

The pregnancy had been fraught with danger and the labour was long and put the lives of both mother and baby at risk.

The child was born in the middle of winter, during one of the most violent snowstorms to come upon Castel Armida in living memory, and Sherlock Holmes Alton Lewis introduced himself to the world with hair black as ebony, skin white as milk and eyes the color of ice.


	2. Save Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two children meet in Supramondo.  
> It was born a great friendship.

The OverWorld is a place outside of time and space, dark and spiritual. It is where the souls of the dead pass through before arriving at their final resting place and is also the home of the spirits of the living - conscious and unconscious.

It is the first place those who fall asleep come to before entering the valley of dreams. This is where trained telepaths can meet and speak without consideration of distance. They are capable of projecting themselves into this place with their astral body.

It is not without risk, there should be someone present to monitor the physical body in order to prevent mishaps that may force the telepath to leave their state of deep meditation, which could leave them trapped in the OverWorld, unable to return.

(From: "History of Darkover" by Marion Zimmer Bradley)

 

Chapter 2: Save Me

 

John Watson was a lively child, blond with blue eyes, always smiling, happy and cheerful.   
He lived in a small, remote village in the foothills of the Hellers, just outside the domains of Aldaran. Those parts were never seen by the Comyn as it was hostile territory comprised of small villages in which the poor resided.  
Sherlock Lewis Holmes Alton was a child of brown hair, white skin and blue eyes of an indefinable color. He was always serious, appearing to stare deep into the soul of the people around him, burdened with the weight of the world on his small shoulders.   
He lived in the beautiful and exclusive Castle Armida, the estate of the family Alton, looked after and revered, but above all, feared. Despite his tender age, his seriousness intimidated even those adults that surrounded him.  
One winter’s night, a tremendous snowstorm was raging over an extensive area of Darkover. It encompassed the mountain region, the plains of Hellers and it was also making its presence felt in Armida.  
While sleeping, John had astral-projected into the Overworld for the first time, all without knowing exactly what he was doing. He found himself in front of the ethereal, glowing figure of another child, thin, with dark hair. This child seemed to be studying the place intently.  
"Hello,” John greeted him, “Is this the first time you’ve come here?"  
The child turned to look at him, puzzled: "Who are you and where are we?" he asked.  
John gave a big smile. "My name is John, and this is the Overworld – the world of dreams."

The boy cocked his head to one side. "You mean am I dreaming? Why should I dream about someone I do not know? Why is all dark? What are the other translucent forms here?"  
"This is a special place. You can decide what you see. Look."  
As John closed his eyes and concentrate,: the contours of the mountains blurred, and within a few seconds disappeared altogether.  
"It is not easy to maintain the image,” apologized John, “It requires a lot of concentration."  
The serious faced, black-haired child was fascinated.  
"Teach me!" he ordered.  
John smiled, not at all bothered by the other’s tone.  
"You have to focus your mind on a place or a person and WANT to see it."  
The boy closed his eyes and seconds later the basic shape and sharp outline of a spotted horse appeared.  
"WOW!” shouted John, “That’s great! You are very good!"  
The child smiled, pleased by John’s compliment. "It is the horse that my father gave me a few days ago for my eighth birthday."  
John's eyes widened. "He gave a horse for your birthday? Who are you?"  
"My name is Sherlock Lewis Holmes Alton," he said, seriously.  
"What a long name!” John said, “I'm just John Watson."  
Sherlock gave him another smile.  
"Nice to meet you, John."  
"Nice to meet you, Sherlock."

On that night, many others to follow, the two children met and spoke of how they spent their days, playing and having fun. In the morning when they woke up, they were always very tired, but happy. Their friendship, however, was not destined to remain bound to the Overworld.

Sherlock had turned ten a few days previously.  
He was having dinner with his family, but was impatient and was noticeably just playing with his food, pretending to eat while cutting up the meat and distributing it around his plate. His parents could not understand why he was so anxious to go to sleep, when for years they had had to struggle against his desire to stay up late.  
"Can I go now?" he asked for the umpteenth time.  
Rafael nodded and Sherlock jumped up, running out of the dining room and to his bed.  
When he finally arrived in Supramondo, John was already there waiting for him.  
"Hello Sherlock."  
"Hello John. Tonight I’ve made something beautiful."  
And there in the Overworld he created Castle Armida.  
John looked at him with wonder, "This is your home?"  
"Yes. Come on, I'll show you around."   
He reached out a hand which John took without hesitation, and guided him into Castel Armida.

John’s eyes were wide with wonder and the memories of the amusing stories Sherlock had told him.  
"You live in a beautiful place,” he said. “You must be very happy."  
Sherlock became sad. "Not much, really."  
"Why?" John asked, surprised.  
"I have no friends,” Sherlock replied. “I am the son of the Lord of Alton and this puts them in awe. In addition, everyone thinks I'm weird."  
"Oh, why? " asked John amazed.  
Sherlock seemed almost embarrassed. "I think it's because I say the things they don’t like to hear," he finally confessed.  
"Things like?"  
"What did they do, where they were. Sometimes I revealed things that others would not have known. "  
John smiled. "Well, yes. That probably should have avoided. Sometimes you have to be diplomatic."  
"But I don’t do it on purpose!” said Sherlock plaintively, “I just see things and tell them!"  
"It's not always a good thing. Sometimes people prefer not to know."  
"Why?" Sherlock asked.  
John shrugged. "I do not know. My father always says that there are things that I will understand when I'm an adult."  
"I do not know if I want to become an adult." Sherlock said.  
John looked shocked. "What are you saying!” he exclaimed; “Of course you will become adult! How could I learn about all these things, if you were not there?"  
Sherlock smiled happily. "I wish you were here with me at Armida. It would be great. We could be together all day and have lots of fun."  
"I'd love to,” John smiled. “Maybe one day, when we are older."  
John’s form began to flicker.  
"They're calling me. See you tomorrow night, Sherlock."  
"Tomorrow night, John."

The following night, Sherlock did not come to the Overworld. Nor did he for the two nights after.  
John was beginning to worry, imagining that Sherlock no longer wanted him as a friend.  
On the fourth night, John went to the Overworld without much enthusiasm, thinking that Sherlock would not show. Instead, he saw him in the distance, pale and more translucent than usual.  
"Sherlock!” he called, “What's wrong? "

In that same moment, the castle of Armida was in a great commotion.  
Sherlock had been caught up in the evil that was Threshold Disease – the full awakening of his Laran – his powers.   
Because of this, Sherlock had been delirious and unconscious with a high fever for three days.  
His parents were desperate because few children managed to survive threshold pain of that intensity.  
As a last hope they had called on Beltran Hastur from Neskaya Tower, which at that time, had formed a ‘Circle’ with the Leronis of Armida and Haramis. This allowed the Leronis from the three arrays to unite their powers and act as a single entity with a Laran higher than that of any individual.

John approached Sherlock. His friend was lethargic and insensate, as if he could not detect his presence.  
"Sherlock!” John shook him by the shoulders, “Sherlock! It's me, John! Can you hear me?"  
Sherlock's eyes were dull and absent. Frightened, John hugged him tightly. "Please answer me, you're scaring me."  
Suddenly, John was filled with enormous pain coursing through his entire body.  
He felt the pain everywhere, but it was especially strong in his head – as if something was trying to force its way out. Although John could not understand the pain, he knew instinctively that it came from Sherlock, and he subconsciously began to absorb his friend’s suffering and push it away.

While Sherlock was struck by convulsions, Beltran realised through the matrix that another consciousness was entwined with that of the young Holmes.  
"Rafael,” he said, “Change with me in the Circle. I have to go into the Overworld."  
Without asking for explanations, Rafael drew on his own matrix, replacing Beltran in the Circle.

In the small house at the foot of the Hellers, Harry was awakened abruptly by an unusual movement of the bed.  
Still half asleep, she checked that John wasn’t having a nightmare, only to feel his bed shake violently. Wide awake, she lit a candle before calling loudly to her parents.   
John was in convulsions.

Led by his matrix, Beltran quickly found Sherlock in the Overworld, and saw a small blond boy embracing him, absorbing seizures and pain, but suffering himself from their consequences.   
As Beltran drew near he realized to his dismay that the blond child was John. Beltran had been the only family member to know where Liriel and Gabriel had escaped to when they fled from the Tower of Neskaya. He had also been the only one to remain in contact with them, and their two children, Harriet and John.

Observing the scene before him, he realised that both the boys were of an age to be sent to a Tower to be trained in the proper use of their Laran, as it was obvious they both had the gift. He was particularly struck by John, as he thought it was almost certain that he had inherited the purest form of the Hastur powers.  
Centuries had past since any child had been born to the Comyn with pure Laran, yet now it seemed they had two: a Hastur and an Alton.  
John, however, was doing a very dangerous thing - moving onto himself the symptoms of the disease that had struck Sherlock. He was saving his friend’s life while jeopardizing his own.  
Gently, Beltran took John’s hand. "John, you have to let go."  
The blond boy looked desperately at Beltran. "He doesn’t answer. He's sick."  
"I'm here to help, John. You have to let the pain go or you'll be sick too."  
Sherlock looked between Beltran and John, "John, what's going on?"  
John smiled happily, loosening his hold on the other boy. "Sherlock! Do you recognize me!"  
"Of course I do! What happened? Why is Beltran here?"  
Beltran did not answer him directly. "It's time to wake up, Sherlock.” He ordered. “And you too, boy," he added to John, who disappeared immediately without saying goodbye.

Sherlock stared into space for a few seconds before he realized was actually looking at the mother's face.  
In the little house at the foot of the Heller mountains, Liriel and Gabriel were embracing John, who had finally woken up, dazed and weak.

\---------------------------------------  
Beltran and Rafael Hastur Holmes were in the study of Alton drinking tea to recover from the effort made to save Sherlock, who was now resting in his room, guarded by the mother. Beltran had not been able to conceal the presence of John, as all members of the circle had been linked to Sherlock’s mind and had detected the presence of another person.  
Before leaving him to fall asleep, Rafael Beltran had made Sherlock tell them everything he knew about the boy who had helped him in the Overworld.  
"What about this boy John?" asked Rafael.  
Beltran shrugged. "He has to be the illegitimate son of one of the Comyn. To do what he did, he must have a bit of Laran."  
"It could be a Di Asturien?"  
"No more than Alton are those who are called Holmes."  
Rafael remained silent for a long time, staring at the amber liquid that was cooling in the cup.  
"Sherlock has always been a strange child,” Holmes mused, “He has never managed to make friends, just to intimidate others. And now he has apparently had regular contact with this child for two whole years! I want him here at Armida."  
Beltran stiffened. "What did you say?"  
"From what Sherlock told us, I think I know where John Watson lives. Tomorrow I will send Anton Lestrade to take him."  
Hastur looked surprised. "You want to separate the boy from his family?"  
Rafael was adamant. "I am thinking about my son’s well-being! This child seems to make life better for Sherlock, therefore I want him here. Moreover, if it is true that he is a telepath, here he will receive some training. You saw where he lives! I don’t think his parents have understood what they have in their hands. Maybe it’s the father or mother who is illegitimate. The Laran may have skipped a generation. These things happen in these impure crossings."  
Beltran was angry. "Rafael, you're talking of them as if they were beasts!"  
Holmes turned slightly to Hastur, "I am sorry, Beltran. I'm tired and worried. I almost lost my son."  
"And you want to take away the child of another father."  
"I have no choice," he retorted, resolute.  
Beltran’s jaw was rigid. He had hoped that John might have a few more peaceful years, but fate seemed to have decided otherwise.  
"I will go with Lestrade.” he finally said coldly. “I am a Keeper and a Hastur. Maybe I can make it clear to those parents that because your child is more important than theirs, you have the right to snatch him!!"  
Finished speaking, Hastur rose and left Holmes alone with his discomfort.  
\---------------------------------------  
Because of bad weather, it took Beltran Hastur, Anton Lestrade, his son Greg and five bodyguards four days to get to John’s small village at the foot of the Hellers. Beltran had insisted that Lestrade’s son accompany them, stating that the presence of another boy, even if slightly older, would reassure young John.  
At the outskirts of town they were confronted by the village head man Phillip Carter, a tall, bald blacksmith with a very thick beard, who looked on them with hostility. The presence of a detachment of soldiers under the command of a member of the Comyn was usually a sign of trouble, especially if they wore the colors of Alton. It wasn’t chance that brought them so far from Armida!  
"What do you want?" he asked bluntly.

Anton Lestrade was a man of wiry and agile build. Around the age of forty with prematurely grey hair and black eyes, he did not approve of his mission, but as a good soldier he had follow his master’s orders.   
He calmly replied to the head man; "We're looking for a young boy by the name of John Watson. About twelve years old, blond hair and blue eyes."  
Carter narrowed his eyes. "What do you want with him? He’s not a dangerous criminal to justify this show of force."  
"We wish to talk to his parents,” Lestrade said in a friendly tone.   
"They are not here. You came here for nothing. Now go away."  
Carter turned to go back to work, but Beltran stopped him.  
"He's lying. The parents are not here, but the child is over there," he said, pointing to a small boy standing on the porch of a nearby house.   
Carter stiffened and clenched his fists. "You're wrong. That is my son. "  
Beltran uncovered the head, "I'm Beltran Felix Winston Hastur, Keeper of the Tower of Neskaya. Captain Lestrade will take the child to Armida, while I wait for the parents to explain what is happening. If you don’t oppose us, no-one will get hurt. "  
Hearing the name Hastur, Carter froze. The man before him was the brother of the regent! If anything happened to him, they would have trouble with not only Alton, but with the Hastur also.  
Gritting his teeth, he walked over to John.  
"John, come here please,” he said, smiling gently. “You have to go with these gentlemen. Your father will come for you soon. Don’t worry, they mean you no harm."  
John’s gaze flitted between Carter, Hastur and Lestrade. He didn’t understand why his uncle Beltran was pretending not to know him, although it was true that he had never visited the village; they had previously always met in remote, less frequented places, but that still did not mean he understood what was happening. Nevertheless, he obeyed the direction of the village leader and approached the older Lestrade who, with a smile, hoisted him up behind him on the horse.  
Lestrade stopped the horse in front of Hastur: "I’ll leave a few of the men with you. I hope that will be enough. "  
"It will suffice," Beltran retorted in a dry tone of voice.  
Lestrade turned to go, but paused for a moment. "Thank you for not making me face the child’s parents. I would not want to be in their shoes when you will tell them we have taken him."  
Beltran smiled sadly at Lestrade, "Nobody wants to be in the shoes of these parents,” he sighed. “Go."

\---------------------------------------  
It was evening when Gabriel and Liriel Watson finally returned home.  
They had accompanied Harry to Nevarsin Tower where she would spend a short period of time in preparatory training before she moved fulltime to Naskaya. They had left John behind because they worried that he would not be able to tackle such an arduous journey, so soon after his convulsions.   
Arriving at the village, they were greeted by Carter who quickly explained what had happened.  
"I'm sorry, Gabriel, I couldn’t do anything to prevent them from taking John away. They were Alton men and they had the Hastur Guardian of Neskaya Tower with them. He is waiting for you at home."  
"I do not blame you Phillip," Gabriel reassured him as he strode toward the house, opening the door furiously, ready to pounce on Beltran.   
The two remaining guards interposed themselves in front of Beltran, but he raised his hand, "Stop. I do not need your assistance. Please wait for me outside."  
The two guards hesitated, but these orders were those of a Hastur, so they reluctantly left.  
Once alone, Liriel confronted Beltran. "What did you do, Uncle? Why have you taken our John?"  
Beltran sympathized with his niece, but could not avoid their displeasure. "John met the son of Rafael Holmes Alton in the Overworld recently, did you know? He helped him overcome a bad bout of threshold sickness."  
"Was this four nights ago?” Liriel asked, “John was ill. He had convulsions! That’s the reason we left him at home today. Would that we had taken him with us, this would have been avoided!!"  
"Yes, it was four nights ago. Lord Alton wants to make John his son’s squire. They became friends while in the Overworld. Sherlock is a very lonely child and John’s presence will be good for him."  
Liriel snapped furiously: "And what of John’s feelings and wishes? How could you tear him from his family!"  
"He won’t remain at Armida for long,” Gabriel said, “I'm going to get him back right now!"  
"You will not!” Beltran ordered. “If you went to Armida, Holmes will immediately recognize and understand who John is! His identity must remain secret, until the time is right to reveal it."  
Liriel and Gabriel looked at him amazed. "What do you mean?" she asked.  
"I have had different visions of John’s future and ALL of them were linked to Sherlock. Together, the two of them are intended to save Darkover from serious danger and cement John’s position as next regent of the planet; but for this to eventuate, no one must know that John is a Comyn and especially not a Hastur!"  
"Who does Rafael think he is?" Gabriel asked.  
"He believes John to be the illegitimate son of a Comyn. When Sherlock is a Neskaya, I will ensure that John comes also so I can train him in secret. I intend to take Harriet to Neskaya, so that during the six years John will spend there, they will be able to spend time together."  
"But Gabriel and I will not be able to see him, though," Liriel said in a barely audible whisper.  
Beltran heart sank for the pain he was giving to his niece. "True. You will not see him for a very long time. You will hear from him, but ... "  
"It’s always the ‘good of Darkover’ before all else with you, isn’t it uncle?” Liriel Interrupted, her voice hard and sharp in her despair. “Is that why you helped us to get away from my father nineteen years ago? You already knew that we would have John and you used us as your pawns!"  
"To save the people of Darkover, Liriel, not purely for my own devices," murmured Beltran.  
Liriel stared cold and furious. "You're no different from my father. Neither he nor you consider us as people, only pawns in your games. Go away and do not come back. I should never have trusted you. I should have known that a Hastur is always a Hastur and that using people is in your blood!!"  
"It is also your blood, Liriel. And what of John? There is no way to avoid destiny. No matter what you do, his fate will come to pass, perhaps bringing more pain. John leaves for Armida and then Neskaya. I promise I will watch over him and make sure he is happy."  
Liriel turned her back on Beltran, who lowered his eyes and walked away.  
Gabriel and Liriel looked into each other’s desperate eyes. They knew that Beltran was right, knew that whatever they did, John was lost for them. If they had gone to Armida, Rafael Holmes would have recognized them and would reveal to Regis Hastur the existence of another heir to Hastur. Regis would look for John and take him to Thendara. Even if they managed to take John from the Hastur, they would only have to find another place to hide.  
They huddled in a desperate embrace, cursing the fact that despite all they had done they had failed to get far enough away from their family to protect their youngest child.


	3. Here With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carried away by his family, John Watson met physically for the first time the person that much influence his life: Sherlock Holmes.

Captain Lestrade called a halt to their travels for the night in the shelter of a cave.  
He helped John dismount before dismounting himself. Greg Lestrade approached his father, closely watching the boy they had gone to fetch.  
Since leaving the village John had not uttered a word, restricting himself to studying the men who had taken him, as if he was considering the best way to escape.  
Anton put his hand on his shoulder, smiling reassuringly, "You're not very talkative, young man."  
John rolled his blue eyes defiantly to Lestrade’s black ones; "I don’t usually speak to those who kidnap me."  
Lestrade laughed. "Oh? Are you often kidnapped?" he asked, amused.  
John replied seriously. "No sir, never before. But I'm not coming with you through choice or because my father ordered me, so I think abduction is the appropriate description for my current situation, don’t you?"  
The smile faded from Lestrade’s lips. He did not like to admit it, but the boy had a point.  
"We do not want to hurt you,” he tried to reassure him. “You're being brought to a very beautiful place where they will take good care of you. You'll be fine."  
John stared at him puzzled. "I'm fine with my parents who take care of me, without making me miss things. I like my house, even if it isn’t majestic or impressive. So why should I go with you? I would like to go home. Can I? "  
Anton sighed: "I'm sorry, John, you cannot."  
"So I am your prisoner? Are you going to tie me up?"  
Lestrade was scandalized. "For Aldones sake, no! You’re not a prisoner and you won’t be tied!"  
"Then I will go home!" John said firmly.  
Lestrade was concerned. It was winter and the snowstorms were sudden and violent. It wasn’t certain that a young boy on his own would not become lost in a foolhardy attempt to return to his parents.  
"If I asked you to give me your word of honor not to do this thing, would you keep it?"  
John pursed his lips, "Why should I promise not to run away?" he asked angrily.  
Lestrade admired his courage and intelligence. "Because I don’t want anything to happen to you. This is the middle of winter. If you became lost ... "  
"I would not get lost." John interrupted.  
"... If you became lost,” Anton continued as if he had not been interrupted, “and we couldn’t find you, you would die. Would you bring that pain on your parents?"  
"I would not get lost," repeated John stubbornly.

"Are you a hundred percent sure of that?"  
John crossed his arms, eyes sparking with rage, lips forming a thin line.  
Anton knew he had dented his confidence and was sorry, but he could not allow John to risk his life.  
"Well?” he urged him kindly. “Do I have your word that you will not try to escape?"  
Lestrade saw the tears forming in John’s blue eyes, tears of anger and frustration rather than fear. He liked the kid and regretted having to take him away from his family.  
"You have my word," John finally whispered, lowering his head, defeated. Not a tear, though, ran down his cheek.  
"Thank you,” Lestrade replied. “I would like you to meet my son Gregory."  
"You can call me Greg," the older boy said, smiling. He was tall, with dark hair and black eyes, just a few years older than John.  
Before they could say more, they were joined by Beltran and his bodyguards.  
Anton immediately moved to greet him. "Is everything alright, Lord Beltran?" he asked.  
Beltran dismounted, tired and dejected, "As well as to be expected.” He glanced at John, “How is the boy?"  
Anton followed Beltran’s gaze and smiled. "Brave and stubborn. I managed to obtain his word that he will not escape. I think he will keep it."  
Hastur approached John and Greg. "I am Beltran Felix Winston Hastur, Keeper of the Tower of Neskaya. John, may we talk in private? "  
Puzzled, John nodded his head.

\-----------------------------------------------  
Beltran and John a few steps out of the cave, away from the others.   
Night was falling and the sky was clear of clouds. The small moon Mormallor shone a pale white in the sky, while Idriel and Kyrrdin appeared as slender sickles of green and blue respectively. Liriel, the violet moon for which the John’s mother of had been named was not visible. After all, it was only in winter and early spring that it was possible to see all four moons together in the sky. During the rest of the year, one of the moons remained hidden on the far side of the planet.  
They entered a short distance into the woods, to ensure no one would hear what they were discussing. Beltran stopped and sat on a fallen log, waving John to sit beside him.  
John stood defiantly in front of Hastur. "I prefer to stand. I want to know why I'm here and why you are pretending not to know me."  
Beltran smiled. The boy definitely spoke in a manner of which a Hastur could be proud.  
"You are right to be angry John, but we could not do otherwise. There are things in play right now that I am unable to explain to you at the moment. I just ask you to trust me."  
John stared at him seriously. "Why can’t I just go home?"  
"It is normal for Comyn boys of your age to be fostered with another of the ruling Families to receive a … cultural education appropriate to their future rank."  
"I am not Comyn,” John stated.  
Beltran pulled a face. "Actually, you are! Your father is of the House Di Asturien and your mother is a Hastur."  
John was stunned.   
"Your parents quarreled with my brother, your Hastur grandfather, and turned their backs on the family. What you have to understand John is that, for the present, no one must know who your really parents are. If asked, you must say that they are Deanna and Alderic Watson. These are their actual middle names, so it’s not a total lie!"  
"Why can no one know who they are?"  
"Because this way, no one will have questions about your Laran. We’ve spoken of this before, remember? "  
"The things I can do with my mind, how I can read the thoughts of others?"  
"Exactly. When Sherlock is sent to Neskaya ... "  
"Sherlock? My friend Sherlock? You’re taking me to him?" John asked, puzzled.  
"Indeed. We're escorting you to Armida to live with Sherlock. You will act as his squire and while there you will receive an education appropriate to your rank, although no one will know that this is the case. In six years time, Sherlock will be sent to Neskaya for further training, and you shall go with him. There you will be tested, and if you are deemed suitable, you will be given a Matrix and trained in its proper use. If you do gain a Matrix, it is important that no one may know that you have one!"  
"Why?" John asked, growing more and more confused.  
"Because you and Sherlock are destined to do great things for Darkover and its people; but no one must know who you are until the time is right. When that time comes, I will explain everything to you personally. For now, John, I ask that you trust me and keep your secret safe. Even from Sherlock!"  
John thought for a while then asked, "Why should I trust a man who takes me away from my parents and asks me to have secrets from my friend?"  
Beltran smiled: "I can’t answer that now, just please trust me on this and give me your word of honor not to tell anyone of your true parentage or your full power."  
John contemplated what Beltran had asked him. His parents had always loved this uncle, so he had no real reason to doubt him.  
"Fine,” he finally answered. “I’ll trust you and keep the secret - for now!"  
Beltran smiled in relief. "One last thing. In Armida everyone thinks you're the illegitimate son of some unknown Comyn lord. You must let them believe this, for your safety and that of your family."  
John's eyes flashed with anger. "I will do as you ask," he agreed reluctantly through clenched teeth.  
"Thank you, John,” said Hastur. “Your parents say hello, by the way. They love you very much and they recommend that you be careful and act as you’ve been taught."  
John narrowed his eyes. "If you want me to trust you, don’t lie to me. You have no messages from my parents for me."  
Beltran sighed. "I’m sorry, you're right. Your parents are angry with me because I have taken you away from them. However, I'm sure if they could they would just tell you what I have told you. "  
John nodded.  
"We’ll return to the others now, Beltran concluded. “We should eat and have a good night’s sleep. We have several tiring days travel ahead of us."

\-------------------------------------  
The weather was rather mild for winter, so it took them just two more days to return to Armida.  
John had made friends with Greg Lestrade, spending the travel time exchanging anecdotes.  
As they approached Armida, John watched the fortress with great wonder.  
Beltran and Lestrade were received by Lord Holmes Alton in the Living Room of the castle.  
"What of the boy?" asked Rafael.  
"Unhappy to have been torn from his parents, but not throwing tantrums!" Beltran said dryly.  
"He’s got talent,” Lestrade intervened, “and he seems very mature and well-mannered for his age."

Rafael nodded and Lestrade went to the door, opening it for John Watson.  
John entered the room without showing the slightest bit of fear or awe. He looked around, but paused to especially study the people in the room.  
Before him was a tall, thin man with black hair and a stern countenance who was a bit older than his father. This was definitely Rafael Holmes Alton.  
Sitting in an armchair was a woman with sweet features and perfectly ordered blond hair. She smiled reassuringly at him. This must be Eileen Holmes Alton.  
Standing, leaning lazily against the fireplace was a young man a little older than Harriet. He had black hair and blue eyes, was a bit shorter than the older man, with a little pudginess around the waist. He seemed to be studying a fingernail intently, but in reality he was closely watching the new arrival. He seemed to be the kind of person it would be prudent to stay away from. His appearance matched Sherlock’s description of his brother Mycroft Holmes Alton.  
John performed a formal bow, exactly as his mother had taught him, and addressed them politely.  
"Lord Alton, Lady Eileen, my name is John Watson and I am honored to meet you."  
The three were surprised, but observing that Beltran and Lestrade were also shocked, they realized that they would do well not to underestimate the boy.  
At that moment, a slender child with wild dark hair, eyes of blue ice and covered in dirt and scratches burst into the room.  
John studied him for a bit. "You're taller than I thought and even skinnier. Do you ever eat?"  
"Not so people can see, but no-one seems to believe it."  
"Maybe you should eat more. If you put some weight on you’d be less likely to be hurt."  
The two boys studied each other with serious expressions.  
"Sherlock Holmes," the taller one said, reaching out.  
"John Watson," replied the other, shaking the hand that had been held out to him.  
The two boys shook hands solemnly, staring into each others eyes before bursting out into laughter for no apparent reason, already partners in crime.  
The adults were especially surprised by Sherlock’s reaction. This was the first time they had seen him so comfortable with another person.  
Mycroft smiled. "Watch out for that pair!” he stated slyly. “Darkover may not be ready for Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. Those two will be either the salvation or the destruction of each other."

\-------------------------------------  
John had been assigned a small room adjacent to Sherlock’s.  
The first few nights that John spent at Armida, Sherlock quietly entered into his room and slid into his bed with him to sleep.  
At first John did not say anything, but on the fifth night, without opening his eyes he whispered: "I won’t go anywhere without first informing you."  
Sherlock winced because he had thought John was asleep, but smiled at his friend’s words.  
"I'm sorry that you were taken away from your family. It's not right. However, I am glad you're here, with me. Do you hate me for it?"  
John opened his eyes and turned to Sherlock: "It was not your fault. And I will never hate you, whatever you do. We're friends, remember?"  
"And friends will support and protect each other."  
"Right. Now go to sleep. "  
Sherlock settled back in the bed of John. He liked the feel of warmth he got from proximity to his friend’s body.   
"Good night, John."  
"Goodnight, Sherlock."  
Sherlock would still occasionally slip into John’s bed, especially on cold or stormy nights, but grew to have much less fear that the friend would escape back to his home.  
The two boys spent every moment together, taking the lessons, learning how to fight with a sword and Sherlock even taught John how to ride.  
They were inseparable.  
In John’s presence, Sherlock smiled and was less annoying to other people. One look from John was enough to let him know when he was doing or saying the wrong thing.   
However, this did not prevent young Watson from being an accomplice in any trouble that the young Holmes was involved in. Such as late one night when they decided to investigate the north tower to find out if it was really haunted, surprising one of Lady Eileen’s personal maids who was ‘flirting’ with one of the guards; or when they plucked the feathers from twenty chickens because Sherlock wanted to compare the time it would take to re-grow!  
But despite the troubles and pranks played by the boys, everyone was happy with the good influence that John had on Sherlock.

\-------------------------------------  
Two years had passed since John had been brought to Armida.  
Rafael and Mycroft were in Thendara for an extraordinary meeting of the Council of Comyn following the death of the Hastur heir in what appeared to be a hunting accident, when Beltran came to check that the awakening of Sherlock’s Laran was unfolding smoothly and unlikely to cause further problems.  
Eileen was left, to play host.  
From the drawing room of the castle, they watched Sherlock and John construct ice sculptures. Sherlock deemed the task ‘boring’ until he realized John was working hard to make a beautiful sculpture. Then he too concentrated on the enterprise.  
"Do you see them Beltran? Sherlock has been a completely different child since John came to Armida."  
Eileen's voice was sad and Beltran noticed. "If Sherlock is alright, what is bothering you?"  
Eileen stared John wistfully.   
"I cannot help but think of John’s mother,” she said. “If I were in her place and someone had taken MY son away from me I would have lost my mind. Every day that passes I expect to see John’s parents arrive at Armida, demanding his return! If they do so, how could I possibly refuse them? How could I ask another mother to continue to live apart from her child? It would be so very selfish.”  
She paused momentarily before continuing, “I sometimes find John gazing towards the horizon in the direction of the Hellers with a sad look on his face. Yet at the same time it is a look of hope, as if he is waiting for someone to come and take him home. My son is happier than he’s ever been, but at what price? What right do I have to make another child and another mother so unhappy?"  
Beltran said, "Eileen, look at John. Does he seem unhappy?"  
"Now? No, of course not, but ..."  
"What you see are just fleeting moments of the melancholy of a boy who is far away from his family,” he interrupted. “Both John and his parents know that it is safer and better for him to be here. Nobody will take him away from Sherlock."  
"I want meet that woman, to be able to thank her."  
Beltran shook his head. "That’s a terrible idea. Though I’ve no doubt that in her head she understands this is best for her son, in her heart she would not be happy to see you and would not willingly accept your thanks! You are still the woman who took her son away."  
Eileen turned to Beltran. "I can’t continue to turn a blind eye! It would appear to both John’s family and others that I believe my son and family are more important than anyone else’s, and that is not true!"  
Beltran's gaze was stern. "Eileen, I hate to break it to you, but you have already acted as if the feelings of these people don’t count! Two years have passed! It's too late now to either apologize or to thank them! Leave the situation alone. Doing anything at this stage could cause more harm than good."  
Eileen was not convinced, but she knew that she would never persuade her husband without the help of Beltran, and he was proving to be inflexible.  
She sighed, looking back towards the boys who were compare their work.  
Sherlock’s sculpture was perfect, as expected. John’s sculpture was tilting slightly. They were both laughing at something before suddenly breaking into a snowball fight.  
Eileen rang the bell, instructing the servants to draw a hot bath for the pair and some tea to warm them once they came back inside. The boys would need something to warm them.

\-------------------------------------  
A few days later, Beltran met with Regis and Caryl in the Hastur rooms of Comyn Castle, in Thendara, capital of Darkover.  
The atmosphere was tense. Caryl had never forgiven Beltran for helping Liriel in her flight, especially now that Danvar was dead.   
There were many doubts about Danvar Hastur’s death having been a simple hunting accident, but they had no proof the death was a deliberate act.  
The main problem now facing Regis and the Regency was the distinct lack of any other obvious Hastur heir. And with that lack, the line of succession would fall to the family Aldaran, the Moriartys, known for their cruelty and their contentious alliance with the Terrani.  
None on the Council wanted the Moriartys as rulers of Darkover, but there appeared no way to prevent it – other than finding an eligible Hastur heir. However, neither Regis nor Beltran had ever had any children, even illegitimate ones; and as no-one had heard from Caryl’s daughter for so many years (she had not even been present at her brother’s funeral), it was generally believed that she, too, was dead.   
Regis felt the tension between his brothers, but he hadn’t the strength to act as an intermediary yet again. The idea of having to appoint a Moriarty heir threw his mind into turmoil.  
"I don’t understand what you are doing here," Caryl snapped, irritated.  
Beltran calmly switched on a Laran scrambler he had brought with him from the Tower and drew his brothers close together to speak with them.   
In a whisper he informed them: "Liriel and Gabriel have two children, a girl – Harriet, and a boy - John."  
Regis and Caryl stared at him in amazement, "You kept in touch with Liriel!" exclaimed Caryl.  
Beltran nodded, "Until two years ago, yes. Now she doesn’t speak to me. I took John away on order of Lord Alton."  
"What ...?"  
"The ‘what’ and ‘why’ don’t matter for the moment,” Beltran interrupted, “the important thing is that John is currently receiving an education worthy of a Hastur."  
Regis blinked in bemusement; "He has the Hastur Laran in its purest form?"  
"I believe so,” said Beltran. “I will only be certain when he arrives at Neskaya in four years and I and the Circle can analyze him thoroughly. However for now it is sufficient to know that he has a very powerful Laran. And that together with Sherlock Holmes Alton, he will use it to save Darkover."  
"I will announce the appointment of my successor as soon as possible," Regis stated.  
"No!” Beltran disagreed forcefully. “It is too early. House Aldaran could easily arrange for him to be ‘removed’. Let him become an adult. When we are sure that he is ready, THEN you will name him the heir of Hastur."  
"The Aldaran will rant and rage if you do not nominate anyone soon."  
"Until we appoint an heir, they will not risk doing anything to anyone. Procrastinate! Take a wife!"  
"At my age?" Regis laughed.  
"It will keep Aldaran busy for the coming years and so they will not seek Liriel and her heirs."  
"Can I see my grandson?" Caryl asked.  
"No,” Beltran said, “It would be too dangerous. Liriel and Gabriel had to give him up to ensure his safety, so the least you can do is to avoid meeting him until the appropriate time."  
Caryl stared at Beltran and said sarcastically: "Everything is in your hands, right brother? You must be very happy."  
Beltran glared at him furiously, "I don’t do it for the power, Caryl! I am a Hastur myself and I do my part for Darkover and its people."  
The three brothers fell silent.  
The fate and the future of their planet was in the hands of an adventurous boy of fourteen who was completely unaware of his own importance!


	4. Play the Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Become boys, Sherlock and John go to the Tower of Neskaya to learn to use their powers.

It was a warm and rainy autumn, very strange for Darkover.

Sherlock would turn sixteen during the winter and preparations were in full swing for his departure for training in Neskaya.

Sherlock was eager to go to the tower as he thought he could learn many things, but it meant parting with John. In fact, in the tower would be just another boy, so he would not be able to bring a squire with him.  
For all he knew, John would return to his village and Sherlock would never see him again.

This fact upset Sherlock who could not imagine being unable to spend time with his inseparable other half.

For his part, John remembered that Beltran had told him that he would be trained at Neskaya with Sherlock, though no-one else seemed to be aware of this!

 

\---------------------------------------

A few days before Sherlock was to start out for Neskaya, Beltran Hastur unexpectedly visited Armida.

Rafael received him in his office. "Beltran! What are you doing here?" he asked in a puzzled voice.

"I came to talk about Sherlock."

"What about him?" Rafael queried.

"We both know that Sherlock has always been a somewhat ‘difficult’ boy,” Beltran said. “During training at the tower he will be thrown into close contact with children from several of the other Comyn families. With how many of them do you think will he get into trouble?"

Rafael did not know how to react to Beltran’s question. He simultaneously wanted to be angry with him for his impudence, but also to acknowledge that he was absolutely right: Sherlock would cause problems for and with the other Comyn children.

"What do you suggest?" he sighed.

"Send John with Sherlock."

Rafael looked amazed: "I should send John to Neskaya?"

"Yes. He has been a great influence on Sherlock and could act as a buffer between him and the other Comyn children. Additionally, we know John has at least a bit of Laran and I would like to submit him to testing by the Circle, to understand what we're dealing with - you know how much danger an untrained telepath can be to both himself and others."

Rafael was drawn to the proposal. "That may be a good solution.” he said. “You should know, however, that in these past few years, John has proven to have great power. He could be a Mac Aran - he’s really good with horses and falcons and it’s quite possible that he could have their Gift. If only half of the stories they tell old Lorill are true, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise to anyone if they discovered our John was his illegitimate son!"

Rafael smiled, entertained by the idea of hosting an illegitimate son of Lorill Mac Aran. Beltran, however, he wondered if he was wrong about what he had perceived to be John’s Gift.

 

\---------------------------------------

The news that John would accompany Sherlock to Neskaya was received with elation by both boys, as it meant they would not be separated.

John could not wait to start training, although he regretted having to do it all behind Sherlock’s back.  
He would rather share this experience with him, but Beltran was categorical in his refusal to let anyone else know, and made him promise not to reveal the nature of his power to anyone.

The arrival of an Alton at Neskaya created quite a stir, especially as rumors that he was accompanied by a squire (not allowed for the others) had been flying thick and fast prior.

It was lunch time when they entered the courtyard of Neskaya Tower, so all the students were able to observe the entrance of the small group comprising Beltran Hastur, Sherlock Holmes Alton, John Watson and a handful of Alton guards commanded by Gregory Lestrade.

Beltran led Sherlock and John to the housing that had been specially set up for them.

Unlike the other novices, who occupied a room divided into three or four sections, Sherlock had been given one of the rooms usually reserved for guests, so that John could have a little room of his own.

The preferential treatment for the young Holmes had already resulted in grumbling from the scions of other Comyn families, especially James Kermiac Moriarty Aldaran, who did not appreciate being treated as less than an Alton!

"It's a nice room, do not you think?" John asked, while putting Sherlock’s belongings away.

Sherlock was gazing out the window and gave one of those tragic sighs that John knew so well and associated with the boredom that often times overwhelmed the young Holmes.

"Six years. I wonder why I should waste six years of my life in this tower when I could learn everything of value on my own in half the time!"

John turned from putting the jackets neatly in the closet. "You want to be kept a prisoner here for six years, just to allow you to put to shame all the other guys who don’t have your intelligence or your ability to learn."

Sherlock turned to him, puzzled. John was removing more clothes from Sherlock’s bags.

"Sarcasm?" Sherlock inquired.

"Sarcasm!" John confirmed.

Sherlock sighed once more. "I'll never understand why you love sarcasm so much! What is the point of it since it doesn’t answer my complaint?"

"I love the sarcasm because it allows me to make fun of you without your realizing it." John replied.

Finally he turned to look at Sherlock who was staring at him trying to figure out what to do.

He could have become angry about John’s insolence, but in fact Sherlock's eyes shone with amusement. After staring at each other very seriously for a few seconds, they both burst into laughter.

 

\---------------------------------------

By the time their luggage had been unpacked, it was time to go to dinner.

 

John gave Sherlock a quick reminder; "I'm going to have dinner with Lestrade and his men," he said as he made to leave.

Sherlock had looked up from the book he was reading, frowning. "Why do you want to eat with Gary and the soldiers? Don’t you prefer MY company the most?"

John looked surprised. "You know I like to be in your company, but I cannot come to dinner with you. And his name is Greg, not Gary!"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, refusing to understand. "Why don’t you want to have dinner with me? At Armida we always have dinner together."

John sighed, knowing it would be a moot point, because once Sherlock got something into his head it was impossible to shift it, or change his mind; but he had to at least try. "This is not about what I want, it’s about what is appropriate to the rules of society."

Sherlock snorted in disgust. "Social rules are just unnecessary frills."

"Maybe you're right, but ..."

Sherlock stood up and put the book on the table.

"Because I'm right, we will go to dinner. And since you too have Laran, and here at the tower all are equal, whether legitimate or illegitimate, then you have the right to sit at the table of students with me."

John folded his arms across his chest.

"That’s not a reason.” he said dryly, “In fact, you won’t know if I really have Laran until I am subjected to the Rim. As far as anyone knows I have no power, therefore, I have no right to sit with the students. Until I have confirmation, I will not come to dinner with you, either this night or the next!"

Sherlock stopped in front of John. Since Holmes was much taller than Watson, he was literally looming over him. Staring intently into John’s eyes, his voice low and serious, he whispered: "Are you telling me that you intend to disobey my order?"

John felt a chill run down his back, as if something was trying to gain control over his will. He pushed away the uncomfortable feeling with an effort and said, "No. I will not disobey your order. But do you really have to give me an order?"

There was a note of sadness In John’s tone which Sherlock ignored.

"If that’s the only way to get you to come to dinner with me, then YES! I order you to come to dinner in the Comyn cafeteria!"

Sherlock stared at John's blue eyes and knew that he had hurt him deeply. But before he could say anything further, John replied: "As you command LORD Sherlock."

And he opened the door, waiting for Sherlock to exit before closing it behind them, leaving Sherlock unable to savor his victory.

 

When they entered the lunchroom, Beltran had no need to probe the minds of the two boys to understand their mood.

John's shoulders were rigid, his fists clenched and his red face fixed firmly upon the floor, apparently furious that Sherlock had forced him to follow him to the table.

Well aware of social conventions and knowing what place everyone expected him to occupy, Beltran knew that John had no desire to be there.

But neither was Sherlock in good spirits, due to his previous ‘discussion’ with John. He was unusually silent and wearing the expression of one ready to do battle at the first real cause.

And the trouble, wearing the clothes of James Kermiac Moriarty Aldaran, was not long in coming.

 

The shorter boy stood in front of Sherlock and stared at him defiantly.

Sherlock looked at him carefully. About the same height as John, the boy was a few years older than Holmes, with dark hair and black, unsmiling eyes.

A fake smile curled upon his lips.

"Did no-one tell you, Alton? Pet dogs should be left in the kennels, not brought to the Mess Hall. Unless, of course, you want to keep him under the table to perform a small ‘service’ for you while you’re eating? In which case, I can use him too? Just to see if it’s because he’s so talented that you can’t bear to be separated from him even for half an hour!"

The boys closest to Sherlock and James quickly walked away.

Standing behind James was another boy, tall with dark hair and green eyes. From his attitude it was obvious that he did not want the fight, but felt obliged to defend his friend.

"I haven’t had the displeasure of meeting you before,” Sherlock said coldly. “But I can tell you have no idea of what is going on, not having any friends yourself – apart from the boy standing behind you. He is the only one willing to call you friend, everyone else just fears you. You yearn only for power and think that the only way to demonstrate that power is to possess or to hurt those around you, starting with those who call themselves your friends. You take and do not give anything in return. Until you know what it means to be a true friend, I won’t be accepting advice any from you. Also, don’t you EVER compare John to an animal. He is a thousand times your superior in every way that counts!"

The smile on the face of James quickly turned into a furious frown, "How DARE you ..."

Before he could say or do anything else, James flew backwards to the ground.

John had punched him hard on the nose.

James started screaming and shouting in a shrill and annoying voice: "He broke my nose! That dog broke my nose! To me! An Aldaran! That useless being without a shred of Laran has DARED raise his hands to a Comyn! I want him DEAD!"

Sherlock was shocked by John’s reaction, and saw he was now retained by a pair of adults.

The green eyed boy behind Moriarty was staring at John with a mixture of admiration and amazement. Sebastian Dyan Moran Ardais wondered if the blond boy was aware of the trouble he was in for hitting James, but he appreciated the fact that he had intervened in defense of his friend, thereby avoiding long term problems between the two powerful Comyn families.

He definitely had more character and good sense than the young Alton!

 

Beltran, along with the other instructors and tower guards, marched into the Hall, quickly moving over to the boys.

"Take James to the infirmary,” he ordered harshly. “The groom will be confined to the tower prison for the next four weeks. He shall only be allowed out to work in the stables and to tidy Sherlock’s rooms while the boys are in class. Maybe this way you will learn your place and the proper way to behave in the presence of a Comyn!"

Sherlock stepped in front of Beltran. "Do not call John groom! What has happened is not his fault! It was between me and this ... "

Beltran raised his hand, blocking Sherlock’s complaints.

"Everyone is responsible for their own actions. The groom has struck a Comyn and must be punished. But you're right, Sherlock. You and James started this, and so John hit Moriarty to prevent you from doing so, - which would have created far greater problems. Take this as a lesson: Actions have consequences and it’s not always we ourselves who pay the price!"

The guards had already taken John away and Beltran turned on his heel and followed.

Passing close to Sherlock, James gave him a satisfied smile.

"So you will not have your pet dog for a while time,” he whispered into Sherlock’s ear, “But, do not believe this ends here. This is just the beginning of the game. Sooner or later, I will take your little dog. I will have him in my hands and you will have to stand by while I have fun with him!”

He paused before adding, “I also have a little prophecy for you: John will leave you, and your broken heart will become colder than ICE!"

And he walked away laughing heartily, leaving Sherlock alone in the middle of the room with his anger and frustration.

 

\---------------------------------------

Beltran joined John in the cell with a tray. He found him sitting on the ground, with his back against the wall of the room.

"I’ve brought you something to eat. You were sentenced to one month in detention, not in starvation! "

John remained staring at the floor.

Beltran smiled. "You've made a lot of boys happy with that punch to James Moriarty’s nose! Many have wanted to hit him. You’ve made everyone Moriarty intimidated sympathetic to your situation. And there are many of them!"

John continued to say nothing.

"Do you understand why I had to punish you, John?"

John finally got up, throwing an angry look at Beltran. "If being a Comyn means behaving like Sherlock and Moriarty, then I don’t want to be one!"

Beltran sat down on the cot.

"I understand how you could see us, John. The fact that you grew up in the remote village will make you a better Comyn. However, do not judge us just by these two boys. Think of your parents, or Sherlock’s parents. They too are Comyn, but they are fine people. We all have to learn from our mistakes, John. Even Sherlock and James."

"But they will not improve. They’ll just learn to do more harm."

Beltran knew that this was not the right time to convince John.

He decided to tackle another issue, this one much closer to his heart. "I know you think the punishment harsh, but I thought to use the opportunity this month presents to train you - without Sherlock wanting to know where you are at every moment of the day. Tomorrow you will be referred to the Circle, to determine what kind of power you have, then we will start the training itself. It will be a very busy month for you, so for now eat and rest."

Beltran got up and went to the door. John had not moved. He was still sitting on the floor, staring at the window. With a sigh, Beltran exited, leaving the guard to close the door.

He headed directly to the Captain of the Guard. "I want to make one thing very clear - no one will have access to John Watson’s cell, whether he is in it or not! If ANYTHING happens, I will have the heads of the WHOLE GARRISON. Have I been clear? I do not care whether the boy is an Alton or an Aldaran or someone working on their behalf. I will know if someone has been in here. I am a Hastur!"

The guards nodded nervously.

 

\---------------------------------------

From the window of his room, Sherlock stared at the prison tower, trying to identify the cell in which John had been imprisoned. They had only just arrived and he had already caused trouble.

He knew John had been punished for his own arrogance. If he had just let John go to dinner with Lestrade and the other bodyguards as he wanted to, nothing would have happened.

"I'll protect you, always,” he whispered to the air. “I will not let anyone ever take you away from me. If someone were to succeed, I will not rest until I have taken away their last breath!"

 

\---------------------------------------

Early the next morning, one of the guards escorted John to the stables to look after the horses. Then, while the other boys were in class, he was taken to tidy up Sherlock’s rooms.

The bed was intact.

Knowing Sherlock, John knew that meant he had not slept. He looked up at the window looking out to the tower containing his cell. Sherlock must have spent the night there at the window, waiting for him to look out, trying to deduce if he was all right.

He walked over to the window. Looking at the glass against the light, he could read a message from Sherlock: "The night is long without you."

In a surge of anger, he erased it.

 

\---------------------------------------

While the boys were at their lessons, John was taken to Beltran’s study, where the Leronis was waiting with three others: Camilla Syrtis, Haramis Lanart and Ruyven Castamir.

Sherlock had been under the control of the circle early that morning and as everyone expected, he possessed the full Laran gift of the Alton.

The Instructors were not particularly overjoyed as they knew that Sherlock’s morals did not always coincide with the rest of the population, and that might make it difficult for him know when to properly use a power as complex as that of the Altons.

How was it possible to control a boy or a man who could impose his will on others without any effort?

How could they let him know when it was right for him to use the Voice Command (which could compel anyone to do what he wanted), against the victim’s wishes?

It was this thought that was at the forefront of their minds when they met to examine John Watson.

 

Camilla and Ruyven could not understand why they had to examine the young Alton squire in secret, while Haramis remembered she had seen the blond boy in front of them once before.

They placed John in the centre of their Circle and lifted the arrays, slowly examining the mind of the boy.

Watson remained calm and quiet until they tried to get into that corner of his mind that controlled his Laran. At that point he rejected the mental intrusion.

He had not realized that he had closed his eyes to do so, and when he opened them, he realized that all four Leronis were breathing heavily. Ruyven, Camilla and Haramis looked at him in surprise, while Beltran had a satisfied smile painted on his lips.

"John, could you please leave the room for a moment?” Beltran said. “There's a surprise for you outside."

John asked no questions and left.

At the door waiting for him was a happily smiling blond girl with bright blue eyes - Harriet.

The siblings embraced, overwhelmed with emotions after so many years apart that they could not speak.

 

\---------------------------------------

In the study, meanwhile, Beltran was involved in a private discussion.

"You knew!" exclaimed Ruyven staring Beltran.

"I suspected,” the Hastur corrected. “John is the son of my niece Liriel and Gabriel Di Asturien."

"So he’s a relative of Harriet Di Asturien?" Camilla enquired.

"Yes. John is her younger brother," confirmed Beltran.

After a moment of silence, Ruyven asked: "Does your brother Regis know he has a legitimate heir?"

"Yes,” Beltran said. “I spoke to him about John four years ago, but we're keeping his existence hidden. I shouldn’t have to explain why. We all know that if the Aldaran knew that there is a legitimate Hastur heir, John would not live long."

"Does John know he is the heir of Hastur?" Haramis asked.

"No,” said Beltran. “He knows that his parents are Comyn and related to the Hastur, but he knows no more than that. And for now he needs to know nothing more."

Once he had fallen silent again, Ruyven gave a mischievous little smile. "And I suppose it’s no accident that the heir to Hastur, with a pure Laran, is the squire of an Alton, also with pure power?"

Beltran smiled. "You may not believe me, but the two boys met in the Overworld and become friends there. I used this friendship to bring John here, so that we could train him without anyone knowing. "

Camilla whispered: "If we have to do everything in secret, that boy will have to carry out all the tasks that have been assigned to him and also be trained with more intensive sessions than others. You know it could be a risk to his life, don’t you, Beltran? "

The Hastur lord nodded gravely. "We have no choice. Of course we will try to run the least possible risk to John. But I believe he can handle it. I haven’t mentioned before, but it was he who overcame the crisis of Sherlock’s threshold pain."

"There have not been two such powerful children born with a pure laran in ages. It seems as if the world knows that we will need them!"

"And you know that an Alton can only be controlled by a Hastur. That boy will be the only living thing on this planet to be free from the influence of Sherlock’s power!"

Beltran moved to the door: "Come. Let us talk to the two di Asturien."

 

John and Harriet stood before the four Leronis. The speaker, however, was always Beltran.

"We have brought you both here because we want you to know what's coming,” the Hastur lord paused briefly. “The Hastur and Di Asturien families have often intermarried, so it shouldn’t be too surprising that John was born a Di Asturien, but with the pure Hastur Laran."

Harriet put her hand to her mouth, stifling a cry of surprise.

John stared at her confused, then shifted his gaze to his uncle and other Leronis watching him with smiles but also with respect.

"What do you mean?" he asked bewildered.

"No. You're wrong," Harriet hissed.

Beltran looked sternly at her, but ignored the comment.

"In its purest form, the power of the Hastur family is to be a living Matrix. This means that you are enclosed in the power characteristic of each family and that you can use your power without channeling it through a crystal like everyone else must."

John stared blankly at the Leronis’.

Beltran continued. "However, we have decided it would be best to tune you to a Matrix anyway; otherwise the Hastur power would make you too sensitive and vulnerable. With a crystal, you will be able to better manage your power."

Beltran paused to allow John to understand the information they had given him.

"Your Laran also makes you completely immune to Sherlock’s gift. His Voice Command will have no affect on you, but you must NOT tell him this."

John turned pale and clenched his fists: "Why do you keep asking me to lie to my best friend?"

"For the safety of Darkover. We talked about John, remember? I only ask you to continue to keep the word you gave me when I brought you to Armida. "

"You mean when you snatched him from his family!” intervened furious Harriet. “What gives you the right to decide what John’s life will be?"

Beltran's gaze was a mixture of anger and compassion. "We are Hastur! We are at the service of Darkover. We have so much power, but we are prisoners of the duty we owe to those that we command."

"I am not a Hastur," John hissed through clenched teeth.

Beltran looked at him with sweetness and sadness, "NO ONE is more Hastur you, John."

Watson opened and closed fists several times, before he spoke again. "What do you expect from me?"

"We believe that all the power of Laran you possess is not sufficient to justify inclusion in the training classes with the other boys” said Beltran. “This will in turn prevent Alton, the only one who knows you have some kind of power, from suspecting anything when they learn that you have a matrix. You will perform the duties that have been assigned to you to avoid arousing suspicion. At the same time, you will be trained in both the use of the matrix and, above all, your Laran. We understand that it is not yet fully developed, so we will guide you and help you when this happens. It will not be easy. I'm asking you to do something that might even endanger your life. But I cannot avoid doing so."

Harriet sat between his brother and uncle facing the latter, "Instead of doing everything in secret, put him in the classrooms with the other kids, so he can follow the training without taking risks."

Beltran shook his head.

"We cannot, Harriet. If John was training in full view of the others they would all quickly understand the kind of Laran he possesses, and then we would face too many questions. We cannot allow that."

Harriet, then, turned to her brother, grabbing both arms and imploring: "Don’t do it, John. You don’t have to. You do not have to do anything either Beltran or to anyone else says!"

John stared for a few minutes into the worried blue eyes of his sister. He broke free from her grasp and gently stroked her cheek.

"No one forces me, Harry, but sort of man would I be if I turned away?“ he asked softly. “Mom and Dad always taught me not to be a coward."

Harriet looked away in distress. John turned towards the four Leronis’ waiting for his answer.

"I will not tell anyone about this conversation or of my Laran. Not even Sherlock. I shall devote myself to the tasks that have been assigned and will follow the training. Do you want more? "

Beltran held the eyes of his nephew: "No."

There was nothing more he could say or ask.

John was sacrificing himself for the future of the people of Darkover, a prisoner of an identity that he hadn’t even known about.


	5. I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John returns to Sherlock, but lessons have awakened his laran and his life is in danger.

John’s month of punishment passed quickly.

 

Sherlock’s behavior was irreproachable throughout the period, to the point of him almost managing to be gentle with the other students and instructors. His fear that Beltran would extend John’s punishment was a great deterrent to his usual irreverence.

Sherlock had managed to leave little messages for John in the most unusual places when he went to tidy the room. At first, John had been angry at Sherlock for causing his predicament, but the anger had quickly passed and he eventually began to miss their laughter and chats.  


The first night John returned to their rooms, he was woken by Sherlock slipping into his bed.

Still sleepy, he turned to his friend. "What's wrong? Aren’t you well?"

 

Sherlock climbed in, trying not to disturb John too much. "No. It's just that I wanted to be certain that you were actually here tonight."

John smiled. "I won’t be voluntarily going back to sleep in that cell, if that's what you’re thinking”, he said. “That bed was enormously uncomfortable. I prefer this one, so try not to provoke anyone else and I won’t be going anywhere!"

 

"I'll try,” promised Sherlock. “You try not to punch someone else just because you don’t want to punch me. Next time, hit ME. I’m sure I’ll deserve it!"

John stared into his eyes and shook his head, wryly, "Sleep!" he commanded.

And he turned his back to Sherlock, so he didn’t see how what he had said resonated with him.  


\---------------------------------------

Life at Neskaya Tower continued in its usual way, driven by the lessons in which the boys were expected to participate.

John had double the workload of anyone else. On one hand, he secretly met with Beltran, Camilla, Ruyven and Haramis, who took turns instructing him in the use of the matrix and his _Laran_. On the other hand, to keep the training a secret, he had to continue both his stables work as well as his job maintaining Sherlock’s rooms.

Things were structured in a way that no one would notice what John was really doing, but Sherlock noticed that something was not right. Since returning, John had been too tired for anything aside from his routine tasks. And so he began to worry.

 

"John,” he asked one evening, “Are you sure you're okay?"

 

John carefully avoided Sherlock’s scrutiny and closed his mind to a possible telepathic intrusion, as Beltran had taught him years before.

"Yes, I'm fine,” he said, re-storing items Sherlock had spread around the room. “I have so many things to do. I need to keep extra busy while you are in class so I can justify my presence here."

 

He walked quickly to the door. “I’lI get you some food from the kitchen - unless you want to eat in the cafeteria with the others?"  John turned to Sherlock with a tight smile.

Sherlock carefully studied John’s face. The dark circles around his eyes were so deep as to be sunken, and small fatigue lines were visible on his forehead.

Even more telling, his smile was off -  weaker than normal.

 

What was the most puzzling to Sherlock, however, was the fact that he was completely unable to read John’s mind.

  
He had never found it difficult to enter the minds of others, to learn their secrets and confirm his deductions. The fact he was able to deduce John’s physical condition but unable to confirm his hypotheses with his usual telepathy made him realize something wrong.

And this made him angry.

 

"Of course I’ll eat here!” he replied angrily. “I have no intention of mingling with those louts. So hurry up with the food, I'm hungry! In fact, leave some in the kitchen for yourself, so you can dine with the servants." he snapped as he turned away.

 

John knew perfectly well that Sherlock was angry because he couldn’t read his mind. ‘Doesn’t take much!’ he thought as he replied sarcastically: "As you command, Lord Sherlock." before heading out the room to go to the kitchen.

  
Mrs. Hudson, the lean, tall chief cook of the Tower of Neskaya, greeted him with her usual friendly smile. She was a pleasant middle-aged woman with greyish hair tucked securely under a white cap; and she had a decided soft-spot for the Watson boy.

  
"Wren, what are you doing here? The young Lord Alton feeling too superior to eat with the others?"

  
John smiled. He knew that in reality Ms. Hudson was as fond of Sherlock as she was of him, but did not want to show it.  So she always spoke as if he was annoying.

  
"I think that it’s probably better for others that Sherlock doesn’t dine with them. The last time he was in such a foul mood he sparked a fight, and I ended up with a month in jail!"

  
He walked over to a pan on the stove, lifting the lid.

  
Mrs. Hudson gave him a slight whack on the hand: "Do not touch the pots!" she said in mock anger.

  
John paled suddenly. For some days he had suffered from an intense headache, but had kept it to himself so as to avoid worrying Beltran, Harry or the other instructors.

  
Mrs. Hudson saw him pale and asked worriedly: "Honey, are you okay?"

  
"Yes, I’m fine,” John reassured her. “Is Sherlock’s dinner ready?"

  
Mrs. Hudson gave him a searching look, not at all satisfied with his response. "I could get Sally to take the food to Lord Sherlock. You should stay here and eat your own dinner."

  
John saw Sally Donovan, a black girl with a mass of curly hair, startle. She did not particularly like Sherlock, because he had insulted her several times since their arrival.

  
"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson, but I prefer to take everything myself. As I said previously, Sherlock’s not in a particularly good mood tonight."

  
\---------------------------------------

John carried the tray to Sherlock’s rooms.

  
He found him sitting in one of the chairs in front of the fireplace, reading a book. He didn’t look up when John entered.

  
John felt as if the room was spinning and had a strong feeling of nausea because of it, but he said nothing. He carefully carried the food over to the table, making it just in time deposit the tray before collapsing in convulsions on the floor.

 

Sherlock rushed to him, but realizing he could nothing to help, opened the door and started screaming for assistance.

  
Within a few minutes Beltran and Haramis came running into the room followed by Harriet Di Asturien.  
Beltran and Haramis rushed to John, opening his shirt, revealing a bag which Sherlock immediately recognized as a silk Matrix case.

  
Harry grabbed Sherlock's arm and shook it violently.  "What have you done, Alton!” she shouted angrily. “Did you use your powers on him?"

  
Beltran got up and took Harry's arm.

  
"It was not him,” he said drily. “The matrix and John’s _Laran_ are not in tune with each other."

  
Harry turned to Beltran scared. "It cannot be a bad threshold reaction! “she said. “It’s been years since  John’s _Laran_ awoke and the only time it was out of his control was that night when he helped with the awakening of Sherlock’s power!"

  
Beltran looked at Sherlock who was absorbing every word, while simultaneously checking Haramis was capable of helping John.

  
"The training must have completed the awakening of John’s _Laran_ faster than we expected. The Matrix may not be able to adapt."

  
The seizure had finally subsided and John had lapsed into a natural sleep.

  
Haramis looked worriedly toward Beltran. "We'll have to observe him all night. I'm not sure that the crisis is over. We cannot leave him here."

  
Beltran turned Haramis. "It’s fortunate it happened during dinner. We can take him to my room without anyone seeing us."

  
"I'll help you," Sherlock offered.

  
"Do not touch him!” Harry snarled. “Stay away from him!"

  
"Harry stop!” an irritated Beltran scolded. “Sherlock would never willingly hurt John. It is not his fault that John was taken away from his family. You know full well who made that decision."

  
Harry looked angry but said no more, moving over to help Haramis lift John.

  
Beltran reached for John’s legs. "Sherlock stay here and finish your dinner. I’ll return after we get John stabilized."

  
Then the three adults left the room, taking John away from Sherlock once more.  


\---------------------------------------

It was hours before Beltran returned. The dinner had long cooled in the pot.

  
Beltran looked disapproving, but made no comment.

  
"I know you have questions. I will respond to what I can."

  
"Who is John?" Sherlock demanded.

  
"The son of a Comyn." Beltran said.

  
"Why you are training him in secret?"

  
"It's a complicated story which began long before John was born. There are people who must not know he exists or it would endanger his life. The fact remains that an untrained telepath is a danger, so I reached this agreement with parents: I would train John in secret, and they would agree to leave him in Armida with you. No-one else need know that John has _Laran_ or a Matrix. In that way, no one will ask questions about his origins. Not your father, nor your brother, Sherlock. No-one!"

  
Sherlock carefully evaluated Beltran’s responses, ensuring he was telling the truth. At least in part.  
  
"John is in danger?" was his more pressing question.

  
"He had another attack,” Beltran admitted. “We're still trying to figure out what is provoking them. He is currently sleeping quietly. If he passes the night with no other crises, he should be fine."

  
"I want to see him." Sherlock’s tone of voice gave no allowance for a negative answer.

  
Beltran smiled. "Sherlock, eat and sleep. If John is better, I'll let you see him tomorrow. As he is sleeping, it doesn’t make sense for you to lose a night's sleep too."

  
Sherlock showed his disappointment at the answer, but he knew that he would get no where by insisting.

  
"One last question. Why is Harriet Di Asturien so angry with me?"

  
"She is very fond of John. Years ago she lost a younger brother. He would have been about John’s age."

  
Sherlock knew that was not everything, but he also knew that Beltran would not add anything else.

  
"Do you have more questions?" asked Hastur.

  
Sherlock shook his head, so Beltran wished him a good night and walked away.

 

\---------------------------------------

The following morning, John woke up in a bed in Beltran’s rooms with his head still pounding.

  
He saw Harry sleeping in a chair, her head resting on her arms on the bed, and Beltran sleeping in a chair not far away.

  
John stood up, careful not to make any noise likely to wake Beltran and Harry. He dressed quickly and slipped out of the room, heading for the kitchen.  It was time for breakfast and he had to bring it to Sherlock and make sure he ate.

  
On his arrival in the kitchen, Mrs. Hudson looked him over with a critical eye. "Wren, what are you doing out of bed? You look awful!"

  
John gave her a smile. "Thanks for the encouragement, but I'm fine. I came to pick up Sherlock’s breakfast.”

  
Mrs. Hudson put her hands on her hips. "Sit down and eat. Sally will take him breakfast today."  
The tone did not allow for replies.

  
Sally pleaded; "Mrs. Hudson, do you really want me to take this to the freak by myself?"

  
Mrs. Hudson turned to Sally angrily. "Do you really want to keep your job?"

  
Before it could cause an argument, John spoke up. "We could do it together. Sally can take the breakfast tray up to the room. And I'll go with her."

  
Mrs. Hudson was not convinced, but did not want to argue with John unnecessarily. She sated her anger by preparing the tray by slamming the crockery down on it with more force than necessary.

Turning to John, she said firmly: "I'll wait here with your breakfast. Do not force me to come up there and drag you back down by the ear!"

  
Then she returned to the stove.

  
John smiled and led the way, Sally following behind with the tray.

  
During the trip, the girl blurted out, "I do not know how you can stand that freak! Don’t you find him  disturbing? Those eyes are always peering deeply at you as if he wants to cut your skin off! That guy gives me the creeps."

  
John had never thought Sherlock ‘s eyes were disturbing. Indeed, he had always found them fascinating.

  
Arriving at the door of the room, John took the tray from Sally’s hands, "I’ll carry inside it. Thank you for bringing it up here."  


Opening  the door, he entered the room quietly, trying not to wake Sherlock.

  
To his surprise Sherlock stood just inside the doorway and promptly removed the tray from John’s hands, placing it on the table.

 

John noticed the dark circles under his friend’s eyes and realized that Sherlock had spent the entire night awake. "Why didn’t you sleep?" he asked irritably.

  
"I was worried about you,” replied Sherlock testily, noticing John’s drawn face. “Instead of being nice to that stupid drudge, you should have let her bring in the tray, not try to kill yourself making the attempt!"

  
"Why did you get out of bed? Why did you get breakfast for me? Damn it, John, you can hardly stand up!"

  
John winced, as if Sherlock’s anger had hit him physically.

 

Sherlock took his arm and led him to a chair. "Sit down!” he ordered more kindly. “You need to eat."

  
"You should eat, too." John said with a hoarse voice.

  
Sherlock carried the tray to the table by the fireplace, pouring tea for John, then pouring a cup for himself.

  
John reached for a piece of cake. "Eat it,” he commanded sharply, softening his tone as he added: “You’re too energetic for your own good, you’ll need the energy to keep going."

  
They began to eat in silence.

  
John could feel Sherlock brooding.

  
"What do you want to know?" he asked without looking at him.

  
"Why didn’t you tell me you have an array and that you are being coached? You tired yourself out unnecessarily, risking your life for what? "

  
"To protect my family!” whispered John. “I cannot go into details because, in fact, I don’t even know myself, but all of this is simply to protect my family."

  
"Do you know who your father is?" Sherlock asked slowly.

  
"Of course I know who my father is!" John said, throwing an annoyed look at the other.

  
Not wanting to upset John in his current condition, Sherlock gave up the argument.

  
Moments later, the door was thrown open unceremoniously.

  
"John!” Harry's voice was a mixture of relief and anger. “What are you doing here? Why did you get up without saying anything? You should be in bed. Don’t tell me you went to get breakfast for this freak!"

  
The derogatory tone of the words was not lost on Sherlock, who wondered at the cause of the deep antipathy Harriet Di Asturien felt for him.

  
"I'm fine,” said John. “Sally brought the breakfast up and Sherlock is serving me."

  
Beltran had closed the door behind him, having overtaken even the much younger Haramis in his rush to check on his charge.

  
Harry glanced curiously at the scene before her as Sherlock added dryly "I’m not completely irresponsible. I realized John was over-taxing himself and I didn’t allow him to expend too much energy."

  
John started to rise. "I have to do my duty in the stables today if we don’t want the others to start gossiping about my absence."

 

Three voices yelled in unison, "Absolutely not!"

  
John dropped suddenly in his chair, as if he had been punched.

  
He looked from Sherlock to Harry to Beltran, frowning: "Do you think you three could agree a little less?"

  
Haramis entered the room, smirking in amusement. "I was going to join the chorus,” she said, “But John is right. We must have a valid reason for him staying in Beltran’s room for the next week."

  
"Beltran’s room?” Sherlock asked. “Why can’t he just remain here? We can say that I am ill and I require him to look after me! No one will be surprised that John is forced to remain with me around the clock. Everyone thinks I'm an insufferable, arrogant, irritating, conceited and annoying troublemaker, so no one else will offer to take John’s place to care for me. Everyone is already asking how he can put up with me!"

  
John glanced up defensively.  "I don’t think you're an insufferable, arrogant, irritating, smug, conceited and annoying troublemaker! I know you to be a wonderful human being with a big heart and a brilliant mind!"

  
Sherlock smiled. "You are the only one who does!"

  
Harry studied them carefully. She watched the smile that her brother reserved only for the weird boy and the way Sherlock continuously evaluated John’s condition, sliding his gaze constantly over the other.

  
She looked at Beltran and Haramis. "It might be a good idea," she admitted reluctantly.

  
Beltran agreed. "I can easily come here to see how John is faring. The fact that Sherlock is an Alton with pure _Laran_ justifies any favor I call for on his behalf."

  
Sherlock got up from his chair satisfied. "Well, now that’s settled, you can all go. I will take care of John. The story is that both of us are ill and cannot leave the room. I’ll put him straight to bed -  he needs to sleep. If I need your assistance, I will call you."

  
Without waiting for acknowledgement, he helped John up from the chair, "Come on. Let's get you to bed."

  
He put one arm around John’s waist in support before leading him to his own bed.

John stopped perplexed. "That's not my bed."

  
"Mine is bigger and more comfortable. Also, there is more light here and it’s warmer."

  
Beltran smiled. "I don’t think there is any further need for us to be here,” he told the two women. “I will come by later to see how he is doing."

  
Neither Sherlock nor John answered him, because they had reached the bed and Holmes was helping Watson to lie down, making the pillows behind his head comfortable.

  
Ten minutes later, John was lying on the bed with Sherlock standing by the fireplace watching him.

  
"Come to bed," John whispered.

  
Sherlock winced. "I'd cause you trouble."

  
John turned to him, smiling, "According to all of you I should be sleeping, but I never will with you watching me so intently. Apart from that, you stayed up all last night and need rest yourself. So come to bed and sleep! It’s big enough for both of us, and it’s not the first time that we’ve shared a bed, right? "

  
Sherlock hesitated only a moment, before crawling under the covers on the other side of the bed, close to John’s warm body. He felt pervading sense of serenity and peace, one he had only felt previously when as a child he had also slipped into John’s bed.

  
He wanted to cling to John, hug, kiss and caress him, but feared he would be dismissed.

  
Sherlock satisfied his need by simply reaching out a hand to capture one of John’s.

  
"May I?” he asked timidly. “This way, if you have a crisis during the night, I'll notice right away."

  
John shook his hand, as if to receive strength: "Of course you can.” he answered. “Now rest!"

  
They slept well, Sherlock’s hands resting lightly on John, lying on his side next to him, completely at peace.

  
Their friendship was deepening into something truly unique.

 


	6. Save a Prayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moriarty seeks revenge on Sherlock, but it is John who is in danger.

John and Sherlock spent a week locked in their room.

  
Their roles were reversed. This time it was Sherlock who took care of John, forcing him to eat and to rest; tidying up the room and making sure his friend did not tire.

  
The only thing John was allowed to do was to carry the tray of food Sally brought to the room each meal time from the door to the table. Because it would have seemed strange if the ‘patient’ was the one answering the door to collect it!

But that was the only exception.

  
Sometimes Sally craned her neck to try to see how Sherlock was and whispered: “Haven’t you killed him yet? I don’t know how you can stand being with him all day! In your place, I would have gone crazy! He's not normal, you know? You'll see, one day he will do something so bad that it will become part of Darkover history! You must listen to me."

  
John ignored her as usual. He would never be able to make her understand that Sherlock was a normal human being - only much more intelligent, and wonderfully unpredictable.

  
Sherlock, however, was annoyed by these comments because he was afraid John would listen to her vitriol and begin to see him through Sally’s eyes.

  
"Does that stupid maid believe I am deaf? She speaks so loudly that she could be heard in  Thendara! And who knows what she will make up in her silly little head! Next she’ll accuse me of using some of the old  sentient matricies to set fire to the entire planet! ... John, leave that dish! You sit, I'll serve!"

  
Again, John avoided the potential argument, because he knew he would never be able to convince Sherlock that he could not be influenced by Sally’s opinions. He knew Sherlock was frightened by the idea of losing him, because John was the only person in his life who had accepted him the way he was from the outset, and who still found him wonderful despite all his apparent shortcomings!

 

\---------------------------------------

 

John was feeling stronger every day and the severe headaches had also left him.

One evening Beltran, Haramis, Camilla and Ruyven visited their room to test John’s response to the Circle of matrices.

  
The four _Leronis_ spaced themselves evenly around John. This time, he quickly identified their intrusion into his mind and easily drove them out. When he opened his eyes, the instructors were smiling.

Haramis, Camilla and Ruyven saluted the boys and left them with Beltran, who sat down with John and Sherlock.

  
"The Circle’s examination went well,” he began with a smile. “From tomorrow you can resume your normal duties. You will go back to work at the stables, while Sherlock will return to his  classes."

  
"Okay,” said John. “When can I start training my _Laran_?"

  
"Soon,” Beltran asid, “But at a much slower pace than before, at least initially. You will need to do the same training as the other boys, but with much less available time. Your _Laran_ has only now completed its full development, and it was this that caused your threshold pain attacks. However, while your _Laran_ is now completly awake, the intensive training has greatly fatigued your body. We will resume at a less intensive pace."

  
Sherlock had been listening intently to the coinversation and pulled a face.

  
John looked at him grinning: "Come on, Sherlock,  tell us what you think or you'll blow up the tower!"

  
Sherlock raised an eyebrow, almost offended: "Just because I disagree with you, does not mean that I will blow up the tower."

  
And he folded his arms across his chest as if he was submerging himself into a sulk.

  
John rolled his eyes.

"Do not rolled your eyes that way!” Sherlock snapped irritably. “I think it's too early for you to resume doing whatever you were doing before. You should wait a little longer. Your _Laran_ is only just developed. If you tire yourself out at the start, you’ll just suffer another attack!"

  
John tilted his head. "If you were to keep our rooms neater, I’d get less tired!"

  
Sherlock looked at the books, notebooks, weapons of various sizes, equipment, clothes and food scraps which were scattered or precariously balanced at various points around the room.

  
"What's wrong with my order?" he demanded.

  
John stared at him aghast: "Order? Do You call this order?"

  
"Of course! Just because it doesn't meet your standards, doesn’t mean there is no order!  To my eyes, the room is cluttered when you move and hide things away from their allotted space. With my way, everything is visible and easy to find."

  
John could not believe his ears. "Look how little space is left after only a week without me tidying! If I let you maintain _your_ sense of order, there would not be a single centimeter of floor space left in which to walk! "

  
Sherlock snorted; "Fine! If it means that much to you, I will try to follow your idea of ‘tidy’. Okay?"

  
John smiled, nodding his head in thanks.

  
Beltran had avidly watched the two boys bicker.

  
From the time of their birth, his foresight had shown him two distinct futures for the lads before him. Seeing them so in tune with each other, he wondered if he had the right to withhold from them what he had forseen. Of course, the future was not unchangeable, and often his visions had meaning only as the events to which they pertained unfolded.

If he revealed what he had seen, would he spare them much of their future pain; or would it change their  future for the worse?

  
The two boys were laughing.

  
Beltran had forgotten the reason for the laughter, but he willingly joined in. Once it subsided, he said,  
"If you can calm down, Sherlock, John has decided to submit to the control of the Circle once a week to make sure that what we are doing is not detrimental to his health."

  
"You could have thought of that before,” muttered Sherlock. “John would have been spared a lot of unnecessary pain!"

  
Beltran smiled indulgently and decided to ignore Holmes’ comment. "Anyway, tomorrow we resume our normal lifestyle, **_including_** keeping  John’s secret. Do we agree? "

  
The two boys nodded.

 

\---------------------------------------

  
The next morning, John rose early to get breakfast for both of them.

  
Mrs. Hudson greeted him with a big smile: "John, dear, how are you? You survived your week’s incarceration in the room with Lord Sherlock? "

  
John smiled.  "As you can see, I'm in perfect shape and even Sherlock is alive and well."

  
"Who knows what the gossips will say!” interjected Sally. “I suppose he was just boring and arrogant the entire time? Now he’s better, you must be releived to be around normal people again ... Have you heard that there’s a party in the Tower tonight?"

  
John was watching Mrs. Hudson prepare their tray and answered with a disinterested "Is there?"

  
Sally siddled up to him, like a cat ready to pounce. "I was thinking ... we could go together ...", and she rubbed her hand along John’s exposed forearm.

  
Taken completely by surprise, John pulled away abruptly, turning bright red. "What ...?"

  
Sally folded her arms across her chest, impatiently.

"I'm inviting you to the dance with me. I mean, who else could you go with? All the others are daughters of the Comyn and they wouldn’t look at you even if you were the last man on the planet! ... So, are you going to come? Or do you only like boys?"

  
John was left speechless.

  
The resounding "NO!" that erupted from John’s mouth definitively answered the girl’s question rather abruptly, and Sally stalked away in a temper so foul that even non-empaths unfortunate enough to cross her path were overwhelmed by her fury.

  
Mrs. Hudson started to laugh, which only served to cause John to blush even more. He took the tray, muttering a mortified  "Thank you", before hurrying back to the rooms.

  
Sherlock knew immediately that something had happened. "Are you not well?” he asked worriedly. “You're all red, and you have a racing pulse and dilated pupils."

  
John, simultaneously embarrassed and amused, told him what had happened with Sally.

  
When he finished, he began to laugh: "I can’t believe it! Sally Donovan asked me to a social event and I couldn’t even manage to handle it! I made a complete fool of myself. "

  
He looked up and saw that Sherlock was very serious, almost angry, although he would not say why.

"Are you are pleased that Sally invited you?” Sherlock asked coldly. “Did you want to say yes? "

  
John was as confused by Sherlock’s reaction, as he had been by Sally’s proposal. "Well, yes, I was pleased. It's nice to be noticed. "

  
Sherlock's tone became icy. "The only reason she noticed you is because you are the only non-Comyn male in this Tower! As Sally rightly said, no Comyn would ever invite someone from outside their social group to  a dance. So she had no other option but to ask you. If you want to go with her, have fun!"

  
Having said this, he stormed out of the room, slamming the door, leaving his breakfast untouched.

  
More and more perplexed by the turn the day had taken, John wondered what else could go wrong.

 

\---------------------------------------

 

About three hours later, John was in the stables grooming the horses. Because it was the first full day after his threshold crisis, he’d only had a light training session. This left him with more time than usual to devote to the animals, and the mundane tasks allowed him the time he needed to dispell any residual tension. The presence of the horses gave him a sense of serenity he rarely felt in the company of humans, and he lost himself in the routine.

  
"So, you’re back at work, little John."

  
Watson did not need to turn around to know the owner of that voice. James Kermiac Moriarty Aldaran was speaking in that annoying high-pitched voice he liked to use when he was preparing one of his infamously  cruel jokes. And where there was Moriarty, there were bound to be his shadows, Sebastian Dyan Moran Ardais and one or two others.

  
John stood up and turned with a fixed smile, "Can I do something for you, Lord James?"

  
While he was waiting for the answer, John took a closer look Moriarty’s cohorts. Apart from Moran, there were a Lindir and a Rockraven whose names he did not remember, but who gravitated around the other two, slavishly following their orders with extreme and perverse pleasure.

  
The four boys manouvered to surround John; Rockraven behind him, Lindir to the right, Moriarty and Moran to the left and before him. Even had John tried to escape, he could not make it past all four boys.

  
His first thought was to send a telepathic call for help to Sherlock.

  
Through all of this, James was talking.

"I know you and Sherlock were locked alone in your room for a full week. I wonder, how DID you spend your time?"

  
The two thugs laughed, while Moran looked at John with something approaching compassion.

  
John frantically ran through possible ways to extricate himself from his predicament, but could see no solution.

  
"They say your reason for being here is to meet **ALL** Lord Sherlock’s needs. Well, I was wondering, how many times he did fuck you this week? Maybe _we_ should see which of the four of us is better able to control you? What do you say, guys? Care to place bets on the outcome?"

  
The two thugs laughed even louder.

  
"James,” Moran's voice was a whisper. “We’ll get in trouble for no good reason. Leave him alone."

  
Moriarty's eyes widened theatrically and he looked at Moran, astounded; "Really, Sebastian? Aren’t you curious?"

  
Moran didn't respond, he knew it was useless and his sympathy for John increased.

  
Rockraven grabbed John around his neck, while Lindir pinned his arms. With a sly grin on his face, Moriarty unzipped John's trousers and half tore them and the undergarments off with a single flick, leaving him naked from the hips down. His thugs then pushed John face-first against a support pillar, restraining both arms and legs.

  
John was now completely at the mercy of the other four boys.

 

"Don’t think you’ll get away with this just because you're a Aldaran,” he shouted angrily. “The only reason you think you can get what you want, is because you are a COWARD and outnumber me four to one! Don’t believe for an instant I’ll make it easy for you!"

  
James and his two goons laughed loudly.

"Johnny, Johnny, Johnny! You are **SO** naive,” Moriarty laughed, as he slowly raked his fingers over John’s buttocks. “No one will care about your defiance, not even your dear Sherlock. As long as he can fuck you, that’s all that matters!”

He leaned closer, his voice a malignant whisper in John’s ear; “But do you really think he will want you again after what we are going to do to you? No, Johnny, you’ll be damaged goods! He’ll throw you away like  a piece of rotten meat; because that's what we Comyn do with  PEOPLE – LIKE - **_YOU_**!"

  
Moriarty thrust himself hard against John and with each of the final three words, penetrated him brutally with two fingers.

John bit his lip, wincing in pain; but he did not utter a sound.

  
Moran was dumbfounded, "James, what are you doing?"

  
Moriary turned to Moran, a hard expression on his face. "Having **FUN**! And you'll do it too, otherwise you’ll upset me!” His voice became sharp, “And you **KNOW** how bad I can be when someone upsets me; don’t you Sebastian?"

  
Moriarty withdrew his fingers from their assault on John’s body, moved swiftly in front of Moran and groped him hard between his legs. 

"Anyway,” he added with a mischievous smile, “I can tell that _someone_ is ready to do his duty. _You_ take him first. Show me see what you're willing to do for me and I'll give you the reward you deserve!"

  
He unzipped Moran’s pants releasing his erection from the confines of his clothes.

  
Suddenly, a cold, fierce voice broke the silence that had followed Moriarty’s order. "You touch John and you’ll never again use that useless thing hanging between your legs!"

  
Moriarty and Moran spun around at the voice to see the lean, dark sillouette of Sherlock against the bright external light. And he was not alone. Behind him stood several instructors and guards from the tower.  


A flash of fury darted across  Moriarty’s face, but he could do nothing except try to avoid too severe a punishment.

"Lord Beltran! Things are not as they seem! Nothing untoward has happened,” he said in a mellifluous, ingratiating tone of voice. “We just came to see how John was after being closeted for a week with only Sherlock for company, and he very kindly offered to tend to our bodily needs for a small fee."

  
Sherlock was about to pounce on Moriarty, but Beltran caught him by the arm. 

"Save the lies for those more simple minded people, James,” he said, his voice calm and unemotional. “Your intention here is completely obvious to all present. You will be detained in the cells of the tower until such time as your parents arrive to collect you. You are hereby expelled from Neskaya Tower. Your behaviour today shows that you  are unworthy to being considered a member of the Comyn!"

  
James stared in disbelief. "You useless, insignificant little apology of a Hastur! Are you seriously intending to punish **_ME_**? Don’t you know who I am? "

  
Beltran stared at him coldly. "Yes, I know perfectly well who you are James Kermiac Moriarty Aldaran. You are a man unworthy to bear that name!"

  
Without another word, he walked over to John, who, abruptly freed from the grip of the henchmen, had roughly re-clothed himself and was leaning wearily against the beam, head down. Beltran placed a protective arm around his shoulders and led him away from the stables.

  
Sherlock followed in silence.

  
James was dragged away kicking and screaming by the guards, while his two henchmen were doing their best to try to convince everyone that it was all Moriarty's idea.

  
Sebastian Moran followed the guards without protest or resistance, grateful to have been prevented from committing a horrendous act just to please his lover. He glanced briefly at John to whom Beltran was whispering words of comfort. He was impressed by the courage Watson had demonstrated in that desperate situation. He wondered how different his life would have been if, instead of his perverse fascination with James Moriarty, he had fallen in love with John Watson.

 

\---------------------------------------

 

  
Beltran led John to his office, escorted by Sherlock.

  
They sat him in front of the fireplace with a blanket over his shoulders.

  
A few minutes later, Mrs. Hudson bursts into the room, indignant and furious.

  
"John, dear, my poor boy! What did they do to you! That Aldaran boy is cruel and evil personified! It’s about time he and his chorts were expelled from the Tower. They don’t deserve to be educated as telepaths or to be part of the Comyn! They should be expelled from the entire planet! Instead, will they even receive any fitting punishment? They will just be sent home and then enrolled in another tower once the scandal dies down, and they will begin to bully again as if nothing had happened! If I had the power, these monsters would be locked up for life! "

  
All through the flood of words, Mrs. Hudson had poured the tea for all three men, placed a cup in John’s hands, arranged the blanket more securely over his shoulders and lightly brushed the tuft of hair that had fallen on his forehead off his face.

  
The deluge of words was stopped with a sigh.  "What can I do for you, dear?" she asked in a sweet and compassionate voice.

  
Beltran answered. "I think, perhaps, that in this instance you should prepare something he likes to eat;  though with the shock he’s been through he probably won’t be very hungry. But hopefully one of your dishes might coax him into having something."

  
"Of course, Lord Beltran!” Mrs. Hudson warbled enthusiastically. “I know just what to make. You will see, he’ll eat everything.”

   
She moved swiftly from the room, straight to the kitchen.

  
Beltran smiled. "Mrs. Hudson has a heart of gold, but she really can be unstoppable once she gets going."

  
He turned to the two boys. John was still shaking slightly while Sherlock was watching him closely, ready to intervene.

  
"Did they sexually assault you, John?" Beltran asked gently.

  
"They didn’t have time to do much,” John replied in a soft but firm voice. “You have arrived just in time to prevent the worst from happening. Thank you."

  
He shivered, still remembering the feeling of the James' fingers inside his body. He did not want to think about what would have happened if he hadn’t been a telepath, able to seek help without his attackers being aware of it.

  
Sherlock was tense with anger. "You should have left me alone with them for a few minutes," he hissed.

  
Beltran sighed, "I don’t think that would have been wise. Like it or not, they are still children of the Comyn, and you would not want to start a war."

  
Sherlock jumped up indignantly.

"Even though John is the son of a Comyn? Just because his father doesn’t recognize him, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have the same rights as legitimate children! And then, Comyn or not Comyn, NO ONE has the right to do to another human being what Moriarty and his cronies were going to do to John!"

  
Sherlock had not realized he was screaming, nor that he had just insulted John by calling him illegitimate.

  
A tense silence fell on the room.

  
Beltran and Sherlock stared daggers at each other, but John still had his eyes firmly fixed on his cup of tea. Hastur wondered for the umpteenth time whether it was right to keep these two in the dark.

  
Sherlock sat back down, eyes flitting across to watch John. Watson's jaw was clenched, his breathing irregular, and his heartbeat rapid. Sherlock tentatively reached out and lay his hand on John’s knee.  "Forgive me," he whispered.

  
John looked up at Sherlock in surprise. He had not apologized once in the years he had known him. "What for?" he asked.

  
"For everything,” Sherlock replied. “For my reaction to Sally’s proposition this morning; for what Moriarty and his companions tried to do to you; for saying that your father will not recognize you! I don’t want you to be upset in any way, so what can I do to help?"

  
John was lost in Sherlock’s ice-colored eyes, which were brimming with so much pain on his behalf.  
"Stop being so polite and asking for forgiveness!” he muttered, caught somewhere between serious and facetious. “Today’s been quite strange enough. I don’t want to have to deal with any more weirdness!"

  
Their lips tilted in a shared smile which broadened to a long laugh, wiping the tension from their faces.  
Beltran noted that Sherlock had still not removed his hand from John’s knee, and John was currently leaning towards Sherlock, one of his hands clasping the hand on his knee.

  
The two boys were still laughing; a faint glimmer of peace in an otherwise dark day. He quietly walked from the office, leaving them alone. They were entitled to their simple moments of happiness. It would not last long.

  
Outside the door he was confronted by a furious Harry. "Why is Sherlock in there with John? He's **my** brother! I should be in there to comfort him and hug him."

  
Beltran stood before the closed door. "You _know_ why, Harriet. No one must suspect who John is in reality. You are here using your family name, but if Sherlock came to understand that you are John’s sister, he would quickly deduce that John is a Di Asturien and that would inevitably lead him to the connection to the Hasturs. It must not happen. It's too early!"

  
Harry had tears of anger in the eyes, clouding the deep blue. "It's not right! You asked us to give up John for the good of Darkover. I recognise that look of yours, Uncle Beltran. What have you seen in his future that you haven’t told us about?”

  
Beltran looked away. "You know that the future is not fixed, Harriet, so I can only tell you that at some point, in extraordinary circumstances, John will lose a day and only Sherlock will be capable of bringing him back! It is therefore important that we leave him in there. "

  
He did not say that both water and flames would over-run her little brother. That was a burden that was his alone to bear.

  
For everyone else, it would be enough to live through the suffering in the days that were coming.

 

 

\---------------------------------------

 


	7. Blowing in the Wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John return to Armida, where awaits an announcement very disturbing.

After the departure of Moriarty and his associates from Neskaya Tower, John and Sherlock encountered no problems with any of the other students, and they spent the following five years immersed in intense study and training.

John was passionately devoted to learning how to heal and care for both people and animals, while Sherlock preferred the more empirical studies, becoming interested in the development of his deductive reasoning. Their bond deepened, and even had they not been telepaths, they would still have been able to accurately predict each other’s moves, moods and reactions under any circumstance. They could now cover the other’s back and protect each other almost without thought.

The day they left to return to Castle Armida, they were no longer adolescents, they were two young men.

John was twenty-four years old, helpful and understanding with everyone. He was universally appreciated and respected.

Sherlock was twenty-two, but carried himself with an elegance of bearing and a serious demeanor not typical to one of his age. Because of his habit of deducing all he could from a person’s appearance and then vocalizing his deductions, he was not well liked. But he didn’t care, because John remained fascinated and awed by his ability.

And Sherlock could not care more.

Many of their contempories expressed surprise, wondering how someone of John’s sunny disposition could love a suspicious character like Sherlock. But the two people concerned had never asked themselves that question, because they were as yet completely unaware of their growing love for each other.

\----------------------------------

The night before their departure, Beltran called John in his study.

"Sit down, John. I’ve ordered dinner to be served here this evening. I have informed Sherlock that you will be undergoing some final tests to be certain that you are well and that there will be no future issues before your return to Armida. Harry will be here in a few minutes, so this will be a real family dinner."

John looked Beltran, irritated. "In all the years I’ve been at the Tower, I've only had **one** threshold crisis. I still don’t understand the necessity for all these lies!"

Beltran waved him to sit at the table.  "I know you're very attached to Sherlock, but it is not yet time for him to know everything."

John sat down, "And me? When will **_I_** finally have the right to know the reason for all of this subterfuge?"

"I understand this secrecy is frustrating for you, John, but please trust me just a bit longer. All that has happened to date and that will happen in the near future is necessary in order for you to fulfill your destiny."

John sighed; "I’ll do as you ask - as always - but I hope the day I can reveal everything is close. I'm tired of lying to Sherlock."

Beltran smiled: "You two are very close."

"We are friends," John cut him off abruptly

The arrival of Harry put an end to the personal talk.  The feelings John had for Sherlock he preferred not to talk about, especially with a guardian who could easily discover these for himself, no matter how deeply John tried to hide them. Yet in spite of everything that had happened, John believed he should trust and obey Beltran’s orders until such time as every part of the complex situation could be explained.

Subconsciously, John knew that the day he learned what was expected of him, was the day he would have to give up Sherlock. And when that day came, he would mourn the loss of an indispensable part of himself.

He found himself giving in to fantasies and dreams of doing things with Sherlock he could never confess aloud. He was sure Sherlock was not interested in ‘trivial’ things such as love or sex.

And John had convinced himself that he did not care for men in that way; least of all Sherlock. He assumed that the unsettling fantasies were just a phase signifying the end of adolescence, and that he would eventually fall in love with a suitable woman, marry her and raise a family… and when he eventually told Sherlock of his juvenile fantasies, they would laugh together at the follies of their youth.

But then again, maybe Sherlock would just think that John was strange.

No. He wouldn’t ruin their friendship by revealing dreams that had their roots in adolescent hormones!

\----------------------------------

The return trip to Castel Armida was a very different one for Sherlock than for John.

Sherlock was happy to return home and no longer have to submit to the ridiculous and outdated rules of the tower. John, however, was troubled because he felt that leaving Neskaya signaled the end of their carefree youth, and they would now have to take on adult responsibilities, adapting to the expectations of their families.

Their traveling party consisted of themselves and four men commanded by Gregory Lestrade, who had assumed command of the guard of Alton in place of his father, who retired to the family farm.  
Sherlock did nothing but talk, free to deduce what his father’s men were thinking or had recently done, without the expectation of punishment or looks of disapproval from the Tower instructors.

John was silent, disapproving of Sherlock's more personal deductions, which hurt his five bodyguards.  
By the time they stopped for the night, his mood was black.

He began to eat, leaning against a tree trunk, while the others sat around the fire.  He was used to the cold in the Hellers, and the late autumn chill reminded him of his home. He had never missed the family and the home he had been forced to abandon so much as he did at this moment.

The presence of Sherlock, Harry and Beltran at the Tower; the lessons with the _Leronis_ and the friendship of other boys who had accepted him as if he were one of them, even though they did not know he possessed _Laran_ , had made the years at Neskaya Tower happy ones for John.

He had felt at home again.

The only thing that linked him to Armida, however, was Sherlock; a true friend, who he felt was actually something much, much more.

Sherlock knew that and kept a part of his secret.

Sherlock approached and dropped down beside him, looking up at the stars.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

John raised an irritated look to him. "Oh, does Lord Sherlock really want to know what's wrong?"

Sherlock locked eyes with him. "Are you angry because you return to Armida just to be a simple squire?"

"I'm angry because you're being despicable to the men,” John said gruffly. “And yes! I miss Neskaya. I miss the friends that I made there, the freedom that I enjoyed and the respect that I earned. However, I'm more annoyed with you for how you've been acting!"

"I have always been this way, and _you_ have always known this," Sherlock said in a dry voice.

"The fact that you are the son of a Lord, does not entitle you to make fun of men working for your father and who risk their lives for your safety!"

Sherlock thought for a moment. "This is about what I said to Barrett? That his wife is cheating on him with the Miller? But it is true! What's wrong with the truth? Why he shouldn’t he know?"

John groaned in exasperation, "How can you not understand? Even if it were true ..."

"It **_IS_** true!" Sherlock pointed out angrily.

"Okay, it's true, then” John allowed. “You are right. Barrett does have the right to know, but it's not up to you to tell him, and certainly not like _that_ \- in front of his colleagues! Have you any idea what could happen now?"

"Barrett will confront his wife,” Sherlock replied reluctantly. “He will leave. Since he’s a man accustomed to violence he may decide to kill both her and the miller."

"Exactly! Good Boy,” John sniped. “Excellent deduction! Too bad you didn’t think of that **_before_** you spoke! Moreover, now, even if Barrett _doesn’t_ kill his wife and her lover, he will become the butt of his colleagues’ jokes and comments for the foreseeable future."

"That could cause him to kill his wife and her lover just to save his honor; or to take his own life in shame," concluded Sherlock.

"Before you open your mouth to show how smart and wonderful you are, you should think about the consequences of what you say. Being the son of the Lord of Armida, does **_not_** give you the right to ruin the lives of the people around you!"

John looked back up at the sky, his face red. Sherlock did the same, remaining silent for a while.

  
When he broke the silence, his voice was wistful.

"And you? How I have ruined _your_ life?"

John turned to face him, his heart missing a beat.

Still gazing forlornly at the sky Sherlock continued.  "It's my fault you were taken from your family when you were just a kid. You didn’t see them for years. At Neskaya you rediscovered the warmth of a family-type environment, but you’ve been removed from that too, now. Is that why you're angry? Would you prefer to go home to your parents? Would you like to leave me?"

John did not know what to say. He put his hand on Sherlock’s and squeezed his fingers.

"It was not your fault I was taken away from my parents,” he whispered.  “Although it is true that I would love to see them, I’ve spent twelve years away from them - half my life! It’s not once again becoming a simple squire that’s the problem. I think I'm not wrong when I say that we are friends, but ..."

John paused, looking back at the sky and shaking Sherlock’s stronger fingers; "But it won’t be like this forever. One day things will change.” He continued in a low voice, “I swear to you, though, that I will never leave without first talking through it with you."

Sherlock shifted his gaze from the starry sky to John’s profile, and the sad expression visible there.

He would have liked to reveal his feelings, confess that he thought of him as much more than a friend.  
This could have been the right moment, but John had just finished saying that things would change, and Sherlock could not help but think back to the words of James Moriarty:  
" _John will leave, breaking your heart, and it will become colder than ice."_

\----------------------------------

In the remaining three days of travel, Sherlock tried to be friendlier and less opinionated.  
Not that he succeeded very well, but John only had to glare for him to understand that he was saying the wrong thing.

Lestrade was fascinated and amused by the strange relationship that had developed between the two boys.  
He had previously noticed that John had always had a soothing effect on Sherlock, but he now seemed to have much greater influence.

Once they arrived at the castle, Sherlock strode into the main hall where he was welcomed by his parents and brother. Eileen hugged her son, while Rafael shook his hand like the man he was now.

Mycroft sat on the sofa next to the fire with his wife, who was holding a baby in her arms.

"Welcome home, Sherlock,” he said in a bored tone. “You remember my wife Anthea Romilda Aillard. This is our son, your nephew, Kennard Damon Holmes Alton."

Sherlock threw a look at his sister in law - a girl closer to his age than his brother’s - with delicate features framed by thick, well-ordered black hair; and he stared at the little one curiously.   
"Are you sure he’s _your_ son?” he asked, puzzled. “He seems to have a much more aesthetically pleasing appearance than yours."

Anthea raised her deep black eyes to Sherlock, offended, but Mycroft intervened.    
"Remain calm, My Dear,” he assured her. “My brother has never understood when to be silent or when to speak, and most importantly, what to say when he isn’t! So, I cannot wait to see his face, when my father will give him the good news."

Sherlock looked curiously at his father, " _What_ news, father?"

"While you were in Neskaya, I contracted your marriage to Irene Camilla Adler Ridenow."

Mycroft had a satisfied smile painted on his lips, seeing the shocked on Sherlock’s face.

"You did **WHAT**?"

"Next spring you shall marry Irene Camilla Adler Ridenow," Rafael repeated patiently.

Sherlock frowned: "And what would I do with a wife?"

Mycroft made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan; "I told you, father, that he would not know what to do with a wife!"

Sherlock shot him a look, then turned to his father. "Why should I have to marry?" he asked pedantically.

Rafael sighed, "Mycroft was appointed adviser to the Board of Comyn in my place. For the next two years we will both need to reside in Comyn Castle to comply with this handover, and _you_ will remain here to govern Armida. And Alton needs an heir."

Sherlock looked at the baby, grinning sarcastically: "So he's _not_ really Mycroft’s son! What's wrong, brother _dearest_? Are you incapable of fulfilling your duty to procreate?"

Mycroft jumped up angrily, "At least I know what to do with a woman. I doubt that you would know what to do with that thing between your legs!"

"Mycroft!” Eileen scolded, “Do not be so crude! And Sherlock, stop insulting Anthea, who has given us the gift of a beautiful, healthy grandson. All we ask of you is another Alton heir."

"You mean an heir who could potentially inherit the pure form of Alton _Laran_ I possess, isn’t that the reality of it?" Sherlock ended sharply.

An icy silence fell over the room.

Sherlock looked from one relative to the other with disdain. "Sorry, I'm very tired from the journey. Don’t wait on me for dinner. I’ll eat something in my rooms."

He bowed stiffly to his parents and left.

\----------------------------------

Sherlock remained in a foul mood the following morning, so he decided he needed an energetic fencing training session with the Guards to dissipate some of the tension. Being an accomplished swordsman, he was easily able to predict the moves of his opponents, effortlessly disarming every one of the Alton guards present in the yard for daily training – much to their mortification.

Tired of listening to Sherlock recklessly insult men who bore no blame for his bad mood, John intervened.  "You're really good, you know?” he said with heavy irony. “It must be truly satisfying to disarm someone when the laws of the country prevent them from doing to you what you are doing to them!"

Sherlock stared at him furiously. "Are you suggesting that I'm cheating?"

In a completely innocent tone of voice, John replied succinctly: "Yes!"

Sherlock glared at him without replying, but the rigid posture of his body easily spoke of his anger at the insinuation.

"Do _you_ want to take your chances against me?" he asked speaking slowly.

Without speaking a word, John selected a sword from the practice rack and positioned himself facing Sherlock, saluting him with the weapon.

Their early exchanges were mere taps to the other’s blade, Sherlock attacking lightly and John defending. The more  aggressive Sherlock’s attacks, the calmer John’s defense. As such, the clash quickly intensified, with Sherlock throwing in feints, elaborate sword play and swift lunges, blocked at each turn by John, who defended every move seemingly without effort.

The Guardsmen on the sidelines began to shout encouragement to the fighters, though virtually all of them were siding with John.

The two young men remained isolated from the noise around them. Sherlock initiated a series of quick, skillful moves which John fought off equally skillfully, before managing to hit his opponent sharply on his rear with the flat of the blade.

This caused an outburst of laughter in those watching. Even John gave a wry smile. "How does it feel to be the laughingstock for a change?"

Sherlock was furious.

They were circling. Dancing intricate steps around an imaginary circle on the ground, swords drawn.  
  
Sherlock had realized that John was deliberately leading him to let him make a mistake through his anger.  
Continuing to move slowly in the circle, he forced himself to regain control of his breathing and composure.  
He also raised his mental barriers to prevent John from hearing his thoughts.

John immersed himself within the Matrix and was able to discern Sherlock’s intentions, thereby defending each stroke brought by the other. They ended up with crossed swords, their bodies pressed close together.  
Without warning, Sherlock pulled a hand free from the sword to tickle John’s ribs.

John blocked his hand, pushing him back.

"Tickling? Really?" John laughed.

"I've got to do something to surprise you,” Sherlock smirked. “And yet I fall to you anyway."

John stiffened. Without realizing it, he had used his _Laran_ in a way that dangerously exposed him and his abilities.  
He had to let Sherlock win! He retired from Sherlock’s mind, which in a few short moves led to Sherlock disarming him, causing him to trip.

John ended up with his back to the ground and Sherlock’s sword pointed at his throat.

They stayed in that position for a few seconds before Sherlock withdrew the sword, reaching down to help John up -  
which brought his face within a few millimeters of Sherlock’s. Their eyes met for one intense moment, John blushing and Sherlock smiling mischievously.

  
"Beautiful fight,” Sherlock said, keeping tight hold of John’s hand, “Although I think you let me win."

"No,” John lied, “I did _not_ let you win."

Lestrade's voice suddenly interrupted their conversation. "John, could you come with me?"

John and Sherlock turned to him curiously. "Where are we going?" John asked.

"Lord Alton wishes to talk to you,” Lestrade said, “Alone!" he emphasized looking pointedly at Sherlock.

The two boys exchanged a puzzled look, but Rafael’s orders were not open to question. John followed Lestrade to  the Castle Drawing Room where Rafael and Mycroft were waiting.

\----------------------------------

Watson bowed. "Lord Alton, how may I help you?" he asked curiously.

"We observed the exhibition in the courtyard,” Rafael began. “You are very good with the sword."

"Beginner's luck, really," John parried.

"It really isn’t,” interjected Mycroft, “Certainly not against Sherlock."

"I am able to withstand a bit more than the guards, and this leaves them free to train without Lord Sherlock’s interference," insisted John.

Rafael and Mycroft stared at John, trying to determine the real level of his ability.

Sherlock, not having been invited to the interview, had positioned himself in the next room and was listening through the door.

Rafael asked: "How long have you been in a relationship with Sherlock?"

John gasped in astonishment, "What relationship?" he asked, appalled.

"Nobody wants to punish you, John,” Rafael explained. “You are not doing anything wrong - better he have sex with another boy than run the risk of having bastard children with the first woman who passes by! What _I_ want to know is this:  during your lovemaking, was Sherlock was able to control his _Laran_?"

John was blushing to the tips of the ears and had clenching his jaws and his fists. Sherlock grasped the door handle ready to break into the room, when Rafael added:

"I will allow you to return to live with your parents if you convince Sherlock to acquiesce to this marriage to which he does not seem particularly inclined. I need another heir, one with Sherlock's gift, but I cannot afford to have him destroy his wife’s mind during their honeymoon! Therefore, I’m ordering you to teach him how to control himself and how to be a proper husband to his wife. Immediately following the wedding, you will be free to return to your parents."

Rafael's eyes were fixed on John, waiting expectantly.

Return home to his parents.

Finally home. Finally free to be himself. Once they were reunited and he no longer had to guard his secret, he could ask Beltran to take him back to Neskaya!

Sherlock was frozen on the spot with his hand still tight upon the doorknob. John would accept his father’s proposal to be free of him. He was going to leave him.

In the throes of uncontrolled rage, Sherlock stormed toward his bedroom. So John had to train him to be a good husband and lover? Well then, he would ensure that he got what _he_ wanted from John and make certain he would _never_ be forgotten!

Meanwhile, Watson was standing rigidly at attention in the middle of the room, his eyes furious. "No offense, Lord Alton, but whether Sherlock and I have sex is none of your business ...!"

Rafael narrowed his eyes. "Young man ..." he tried, but John stopped him immediately.

"I did not interrupt you, Sir, so I ask you to extend to me the same courtesy!” When both the Holmes’ men failed to respond he continued; “I can’t deny that I am attracted to him, and although I would dearly love to see my parents again, Sherlock is my friend and I will **_never_** act behind his back!"

Rafael was somewhat uncomfortable at John’s reaction; "I'm not asking to betray my son,” he said, “I want to help him to ... "

"You want _me_ to convince _him_ to agree to be a good husband to someone he has never even met – something which is disagreeable to him. If you hadn’t wanted to be underhand, you could have called us in together and simply _asked_ me if we were lovers and if this was an obstacle to his marriage. Instead, you already have everything planned out: I use my influence as his lover to get him to marry the woman _you_ have chosen for him, and then I get the prize of my freedom to return to my home."

The sharpness of John’s voice was infuriating Rafael, but Mycroft put a calming hand on his father’s arm.  
"We had no intention of offending you, John,” he said. “We simply wanted your help to convince Sherlock to fulfill his duty to his family."

"You really don't know your brother, do you Lord Mycroft,” John said harshly. “If you did you would know that he **_is_** planning on submitting to this marriage, which is the reason for his foul mood today. Instead of acting behind his back, if you had just _asked_ him what he had decided, we would have had no need for this extremely embarrassing conversation!"

John stared at the two Holmes’ waiting for some response, but neither seemed to have anything more to say.

Watson bowed. "Then if that is all, I'll do my duty towards Sherlock."

And he left without waiting for an answer.

\----------------------------------

John walked to Sherlock’s rooms at a rapid pace, intending to tell him everything that had happened, so he was prepared in case of an ambush by his father and brother. When he entered the rooms, however, he could immediately tell that something was very wrong. All the candles had been extinguished and it was only the fire still crackling in the fireplace that prevented the room from being totally dark.

"Sherlock?" he called worriedly.

No one answered. Yet Sherlock’s presence was clearly evident, so he headed to the bedroom. That room too was lit solely by the light from the fireplace, beside which stood the tall, lean form of Sherlock, wearing his favourite purple robe.

What most confused John, however, was the violent rage emanating from Sherlock.

 He approached cautiously, trying to determine if there was someone else in the room.

"Sherlock?” he called softly, “Are you all right?"

Sherlock finally turned toward him. The low light of the fireplace did not allow John to see his face.

"You came,” he hissed softly. “So, then; are you ready for the lesson?"

John frowned, "What do you mean?"

With two quick steps, Sherlock moved to John, grabbing his hair, pulling his head back violently. John found himself confronted with Sherlock’s furious ice-colored eyes just a few centimeters from his.

A shiver of fear ran through him. This was the first time he had ever seen him so angry. "It’s immaterial,” Sherlock growled.  “ _I_ am ready, so we will begin."

With his free hand he undid the belt of his robe which opened to reveal his naked body.

To John’s horror, Sherlock used the Alton Voice Command on him: "It’s time you were as naked as the worm you truly are. You will satisfy my every want and desire."

John felt as if he had been hit by a shower of cold water. A part of his consciousness was willing to cede control and do everything he had been ordered to do, but the part of him that held the powerful Hastur _Laran_ rebelled, fought against the command, and opposed Sherlock’s icy voice with the warm glow of the Matrix.

John defeated Sherlock’s power without him realizing it, but he knew he was not safe. He still had to guard his secret.

And in order to do **_that_** , he had to go through with **_whatever_** it was that Sherlock planned for him!


	8. Di Sole e D'Azzurro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I would like to get to your heart.

The room was silent. You could hear the crackling of the wood in the fireplace, but nothing more.

John looked at the cold eyes staring at him with a furious rising panic: he could not disobey Sherlock, but he didn’t know what to expect from his anger. Sherlock had never used the Voice Command on him before. He had always been respected and almost treated as an equal by Sherlock. Being at the mercy of a man he no longer knew, so cold and furious, scared him.

He wanted to talk to him, try to understand what had happened, but that would reveal his secret -  there was no logical way he could resist the power of Sherlock without using his Laran, and he had given Beltran his promise not to do so. He slowly raised his hands and began to undo the buttons of his shirt, desperately searching for a solution.

Sherlock abruptly released his hair, throwing his robe on the floor and sat completely naked with his back against the headboard, legs slightly open. John finished undressing and stood naked in front of Sherlock, waiting for him to say something.

Sherlock's eyes were closer to the color ice than usual.

"Come here, he ordered him sharply. “For starters, take me in your mouth and make me enjoy it."

John climbed up on the bed, kneeling in front of Sherlock, taking his penis into his mouth, beginning to suck and lick. John had imagined this moment so many times, but this was all wrong. He would have given anything not to have been there.

Suddenly, Sherlock grabbed his hair again, pulling his mouth away from his penis and pushing John face down on the pillow. Taking something from under the blanket, he bound John’s wrists to the headboard.  
He then pushed hard against John’s inner thighs forcing his legs wide, grabbing his buttocks hard.

"Get ready, John,” he whispered savagely in his ear. “I'm about to make you very, very sore!"

With increasing panic, John realized that Sherlock was going to rape him.

In a last desperate attempt to prevent something from which they would never recover, John sent Sherlock the memory of him saving John from the clutches of Moriarty and his friends, and how he had reacted to what they tried to do to him. The memory appeared vividly and powerfully in Sherlock’s head.

Suddenly aware of what he was about to do in a fit of anger, Sherlock released John's hips and rolled onto the bed beside his friend. They stay in that position for a long time: John tied to the bed, his face buried in the pillow, and Sherlock staring blankly at the ceiling.

  
"Why?" John finally asked.

Sherlock did not answer immediately. He finally turned his head from the ceiling toward John, seeing wounded blue eyes fixed on him.

"I heard what my father said to you," he answered simply, with deep anger still in his voice.

John was confused. He couldn’t understand his friend’s reaction.

"You decided to _rape_ me because I told your father that whether or not I’d had sex with you was none of his business?"

Sherlock retorted furiously, "No. You agreed to go home to your parents, after first training me to be the perfect husband!"

"I did _not_ accept your father’s deal!" John replied vehemently.

Sherlock knew immediately that John was not lying. He had always been able to read his friend like an open book, so he didn’t need any other evidence to convince him that he was sincere.

"You _idiot_!”  John continued angrily, “You were going to put me through hell just because you couldn’t be bothered eavesdropping to the very end?!?"

"I thought I didn’t need to listen to the end! I _know_ you're not happy being my squire,” an offended Sherlock tried to justify. “Ever since you came here, all you wanted to do was leave! I thought you would take the opportunity to realise your dream."

"So what, then?” growled John, “You thought that was a plausible reason to _rape_ me!?"

Sherlock looked up at the ceiling. "I was angry,” he muttered. “I generally get everything I want; everything my own way; so I had no idea how to handle _this_ situation appropriately. Then, you had to teach me to be a ‘ _good husband’_ ... " he sneered.

"You're an idiot." John reiterated infuriated.

"FINE! You're **_right!_** I didn’t think!" Sherlock retorted angrily.

John stared at him amazed, " _You_ didn't _think_?"

Sherlock was embarrassed. "It often happens to me with respect to you. I act without thinking about what I'm doing. It’s as if you have the ability to inhibit my rational side bringing out only **_emotions_**.” He paused a moment, “Surely you should have realized that I’m not particularly experienced in managing my emotions?" he added dejectedly.

Seeing him so vulnerable, John felt a deep tenderness, despite his anger. "Would you mind untying me?" he asked in a softer tone.

Sherlock removed the bindings and John turned over on his side and stared at his friend who was once again staring at the ceiling. They stayed like that for a time before Sherlock broke the silence.

"You are important to me,” he whispered in a voice so low that John could barely hear him, “Ever since you arrived, I have lived with the fear that you would leave. While you were a child, I knew that if you went away my father would bring you back to me. At the Tower we were both training, so you would not have left. _Now_ ... now my father has found me a wife and suggested that you return home. I was sure that you would accept  … and I didn't want to listen to the end."

John shook his head. "You're a fool, you know?” he said with a sad smile. “What must I do to make you understand that I will not go anywhere without first talking to you?"

  
Sherlock looked into those blue eyes so deep and sincere, but was unable to shake Moriarty’s words from his mind: _John would leave him_.

Of course, Moriarty could have lied. Surely he had said those things just to hurt Sherlock? Nevertheless he could not forget that prophecy.

Before Sherlock could say anything, John leaned over and kissed him on the lips.

At first it was a gentle kiss, one touch of their lips, almost embarrassing. Then, John opened his mouth, allowing his tongue to lightly lick Sherlock’s lips.  As a consequence, Sherlock opened his lips so their  tongues could intertwine, slipping into each other’s mouths studying the shape and flavor, playfully.  
John’s right hand slid down Sherlock’s body, skimming across his chest in abstract patterns, until he reached his lower abdomen and penis. It seemed to Sherlock as if his penis sprang to full attention at the merest touch of John’s talented fingers.

Without breaking the kiss, Sherlock pushed John down upon the bed, covering him with his body, reaching down low to John’s own erection. Firmly, Sherlock spread John's legs, placing himself between them.  
They finally broke their kiss to catch their breath:

"Are you certain of this?” Sherlock asked, staring deeply into John’s eyes. “Are you sure you won’t go back?"

John shook his head. "It's been a long time since I last saw them – things change,” he said, “And I want this if you want it too."

With a satisfied grin, Sherlock recaptured John’s lips, placing his hands to either side of his head, while John softly stroked his back. Slowly, Sherlock began to move his pelvis, arching his back, so that their penises brushed together. Their moans were stifled by their lips, locked in a seemingly unending kiss.

Their senses were magnified by their _Laran_ , resulting in a total merging with each other, joining to a level well beyond that of simple physical intercourse.

When they reached orgasm at the same time, each calling the name of the other, even their souls were bound together forever in a deep, unique bond that only death could break.

Sherlock dropped on top off John, panting and sweaty, looked into his eyes and laughed.

"Far better than what I had in mind to make you do." Sherlock grinned.

"Definitely better," John confirmed.

While lying there, trying to catch his breath, Sherlock blurted out abruptly: "I love you, John."

John looked stunned.  "Oh," he simply responded.

Sherlock rolled onto his right arm to peer at John.

"Oh?” he repeated, squinting. “I tell you that I love you, and you say ‘OH’?!"

Before John could reply, Sherlock grabbed the rope he had used before and swiftly tied john's wrists to the headboard again, this time allowing him to keep his head on the pillow.

"Sherlock ..."

"Shut up!" Sherlock ordered him.

John obeyed.

He didn’t know what to expect, but this time being bound and at Sherlock’s mercy was not at all frightening, but exciting.

He noticed the mischievous smile on Sherlock’s lips.

"I see that someone is excited!” he whispered in John’s ear, his voice low and warm. “Interesting! You _like_ being tied up and at my disposal. I'll have to remember that! "

John turned red, but could not deny being excited by the situation, as his own body was betraying him.

Sherlock began to slowly and sadistically scatter John’s body with light, delicate kisses from neck to groin, John shuddering provocatively at every agonizing touch. When he reached his groin, Sherlock lay down beside John, taking him in one hand, gently tending to his need.

Abruptly, he stopped and stared at John. Painfully close to orgasm, John groaned hoarsely:  
"Sherlock ..."

Sherlock smiled mischievously, "Oh!"

"Sherlock! Don’t be a tease!" John growled.

With complete innocence the other replied: "I am simply replying as you did. If you want me to continue, you just need to say the magic words!"

John glared at him. Admitting his feelings for Sherlock would be like to throwing him his soul to tear to pieces.

Sherlock, however, did not move.

John, body trembling at the point of climax, closed his eyes. "Okay!” he hissed. “You win! Yes, dammit, I love you! Are you happy?"

He opened his eyes, looking helplessly at Sherlock.

Sherlock studied him for a moment and was seized by a kind of fear, not wanting to bring John to the point of begging, nor wanting to punish or humiliate him. He only wanted him to admit his feelings as he had done, and did not understand why it should be so difficult.

Gently, he took John in hand and with a few strokes, he brought him to completion.

John moaned in pleasure, arching his back. Sherlock released him from the rope, remaining by his side,  
John turning to face him. They gazed at each other for what seemed like an eternity, terribly aware of what they had each confessed. After years of deep and sincere friendship, making this leap towards a true love affair, was definitely crazy.

Sherlock's father had organised a wife for him, and this jeopardized any chance they had to be happy together.

  
As if giving voice to this reality, Sherlock said: "So many married Comyn have mistresses. Let's say I do not like the idea of having bastard children - unless of course you can get pregnant also." he ended, frowning dubiously.

John laughed heartily at Sherlock’s bizarre joke. However, he was sad to be compared to the lovers of various Comyn lords of loose morals. If he agreed to move forward in this relationship with Sherlock, it could only be for brief moments of passion and stolen moments of sex. After all, what else could he expect?

If John had been a woman, Sherlock could tell his father that he wanted to marry him. He had _Laran_ as powerful as Sherlock’s and if his true origins were out in the open they could have opened the doors of happiness for them.

However, John was a man. All the great families sought only to obtain heirs, healthy, strong and with powerful _Laran_. He could not offer any of this to Sherlock. He could only give his love. 

Sherlock seemed to give voice to their thoughts again: "It's not our fault that we are in love. Neither of us chose it. I do not want to give up the only person to make me feel alive, wonderful, important, loved and normal."

John remained silent. He could clearly discern Sherlock’s pain at always being considered abnormal and strange because of his power.

Sherlock did not know how to interpret that silence: "Nothing is more important to me than the love I feel for you. When you came in I was furious because I thought I'd lost, but I now know that I would be a monster if I forced you to be with me just so I would no longer feel alone. I don’t want your _pity_. I want your **_Love_**."

John smiled tenderly, brushing his cheek with his fingers. Sherlock took John's hand in his and kissed the fingers, palm and wrist. John approached Sherlock. He pulled his hand from the other’s and slid it down his body to his penis. Taking him in hand, he began to stroke him whikle simultaneously closing the distance between his lips and Sherlock’s.

Once he had Sherlock hard, John smiled inviting other and turned on his stomach, ready to receive him. Almost in disbelief, Sherlock held John’s hips and penetrated him gently.

John’s first reaction was the involuntary tensing of his muscles. Sensing this, Sherlock leaned on John’s back and whispered softly in his ear: "Did I hurt you?"

John tried to relax and not to resist the penetration, "No," he said.

Sherlock kissed from his neck and down the spine, then climbed back again and stopped to kiss and lick a part of John’s neck which he had noticed to be particularly sensitive in order to distract him. He resumed slowly his penetration, giving him time to adapt to the sensation.         
"If I hurt you, you must tell me. Don’t you dare let me continue just to please me!"  
he managed to say, voice low and husky, almost on the verge of losing control.

"Everything is alright,”  John assured him. “It's all right."

Sherlock continued to push, first slowly, then faster and faster. Panting and moaning in the throes of passion, he could no longer distinguish if he hurt John or not.

For John, having Sherlock inside him was like being reunited with a part of himself that had been missing from the rest of his body. As Sherlock climaxed, John realized that he had completely lost control of his _Laran_ and felt an enormous pressure in his head, as something that was trying to enter his mind and gain possession of his body.

John immersed himself in his Matrix, opposing the force of Sherlock’s _Laran_ , containing and redirecting it along less destructive paths.

Sherlock was oblivious to the battle of _Laran_ that took place while he moved inside John.  
When he came, he collapsed on John’s back, enveloping himself around his lover’s body in a form of ownership that made him feel happy and complete.

John, for his part, welcomed Sherlock within his body and soul, giving him the love and serenity he had always unconsciously sought.


	9. Take Me To Church

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are not rosy. An announcement brings dark clouds on the relationship between John and Sherlock.

  
**[Chapter](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3906340/chapters/8742100)** **9** **: Take Me to the Church**

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Several other nights followed that first one, as the short Darkovan autumn gave way to the long, harsh winter. But Sherlock and John’s nights were no longer lonely and cold.

John taught Sherlock how to maintain control of his _Laran_ during his climaxes, and there had been very few times since that he’d had to fight against his power.

The whole castle knew what was going on between the two and were happy for them. John’s presence had always mitigated Sherlock’s fickle and caustic nature, but since they began their relationship, the Holmes’ second son was happy, which made him personable and friendly with virtually everyone.

So no one was shocked when they caught the two boys openly flirting. They left them alone without commenting, especially as John was obviously embarrassed by the very public displays of affection. It was not uncommon for Sherlock to surprise him in the midst of a task, kissing or caressing him in ways that John felt inappropriate while in public, in an effort to gain his attention. At the same time, John was fully aware that Spring would bring the ‘bride’ to the castle, and then all of _this_ would end, breaking his heart in the process.

Watson tried to rationalized the situation. They had, of course, confessed their love to each other on that first, never-to-be-forgotten night, but the words were the result of their passion. The fact of the matter was that they were two young men discovering and enjoying of sex for the first time. Soon this game would be at an end and they would return to being … what? ... _friends_?

**_Could_** they just fall back into being friends? Or would that too be lost, along with their relationship?

John tried to live their love on a day by day basis without questioning the future; trying not to tarnish this brief moment of happiness. Trying not to make it obvious to Sherlock that he was distressed about the future.

Sherlock, on the other hand, failed to observe either John’s embarrassment or his sadness, and behaved as if this relationship was the best thing that had ever happened to him;  something that it would never end.

\-------------------------

A snowstorm raged outside the castle. They lay naked and exhausted on the bed.  
Sherlock had fallen asleep with his head on John’s chest, listening to the wind whistling through the fireplace and the cracks in the windows as John gently stroked his head.

  
John knew this would be one of the last winter storms before the arrival of spring.

"Why won’t you sleep?" whispered Sherlock.

John winced: "You were asleep! Why have you woken up?"

Sherlock leant over on one elbow, turning to face John.

"You were not in the Over World, and then I ‘heard’ you thinking. What's the matter John?"

John studied the cold blue eyes that peered deep into his soul, yet which at times seemed to comprehend his innermost thoughts and feelings: "Is this where everything ends, Sherlock?"

Sherlock frowned: "What do you think is going to end?"

"What we're doing now." John replied.

"Sleeping?"

John sighed in exasperation: "Don’t be stupid! You know damn well what I'm talking about!"

Sherlock sat upright, looming over John: "Why are you so angry?"

John rubbed his eyes: "Sorry, I did not mean to be disrespectful."

Sherlock pulled John’s hands away from his eyes because he did not like being unable to see them.

"You know I do not care that you are irreverent. I want to know what’s causing you so much distress. Don’t you think I’ve noticed that you are bothered when I kiss or touch you? Are you already tired of me?"

John stared at him dumbfounded: "How can you think that I’ve tired of you? You know I love you!"

"You would not think so." Sherlock complained.

John sat up so his eyes were at the same level as Sherlock’s, but the other was sitting so stiffly that it was a hard ask.

"Sherlock, you are the son of the Lord of Castel Armida and no matter what you do, no one would dare criticize you! I am just a simple man ... "

"Simple is an understatement when it comes to you.” interrupted Sherlock.“ You are so much more than just simple. Sometimes I cannot fully understand you. It is as if you are hiding something of yourself, some part of you which I cannot access."

John looked away because he knew what Sherlock meant and he cursed the promise never reveal his true origins  that Beltran had torn from him.

"Sherlock, please, let me talk. It is not that simple."

Sherlock put a couple of fingers under John’s chin, forcing him to turn towards him. 

"What are you hiding?"

John felt his heart race. He _had_ to lie to him, even if it was only partial: "When you are married, our ‘history’, our relationship, will end."

  
"Why?"

"Because it's not normal for two men to be in a relationship, especially if one of them is married!"

"That's why you'll be married too!" Sherlock said, as if this solved everything.

John stared goggle-eyed thinking he must have got it wrong.

" _What_ will I be?" he asked puzzled.

"Irene has a chaperone, a companion named Mary Morstan.” Sherlock replied in a bored tone. “The girl’s father did not want her to follow Irene, but agreed to let her come once he learned that she would marry my Squire!"

Sherlock did not notice that John’s face was turning a bright red, his posture stiffening.

" _Who_ decided this?" he asked coldly.

"They put the proposal to my brother, who asked me what I thought; and I told him that I agreed!"

John departed abruptly from Sherlock’s proximity, sitting rigidly on the edge of the bed.  
"How long ago was this decided?" John demanded, anger choking his words.

"For about three months." Sherlock replied in a puzzled tone of voice.

"And you didn't think that I would have something to say about my proposed _marriage_ and want to know about it _before_ the arrival of your betrothed?"

"Oh, but you would agree!” said Sherlock. “After all, I'm getting married to Irene, you're getting married to Mary, but things between us will not change. And I'm telling you about it now."

John got out of bed and began to collect his clothes angrily.

Sherlock looked at him in surprise.

"What's wrong? Why are you angry?"

John turned to him, shaking with rage.

"You are joking, right? Do you not realize what you've done? How **_DARE_** you decide such a thing, in my place, without even thinking of asking me what I thought of it?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes.

"I do not see what's wrong with what I did." he hissed in a dangerously low voice.

John, however, was now screaming.

"What am I to you? Property that you can use or dispose of to your liking? Is **_THIS_** what love means to you? You **_sell_** my life to a stranger so your wife will be able to bring her lady companion along with her? And then when you want to have **_FUN_** , you will come to the barn to fuck me or will you keep a separate room just for our clandestine meetings? Or are you thinking of expanding our meetings to incorporate _four_ people now?"

"John ..." Sherlock's voice was low and menacing, but John neither noticed nor cared.

  
He slipped on his clothes and rushed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

He found himself outside in the middle of the snowstorm, practically undressed. Despite this, he continued to the barn. He needed to escape, to get home to his parents. He felt sick and wanted to vomit.

How was it possible that he had mistaken the sense of ownership Sherlock held for his possessions, for love? Possessions of which he was now obviously a part?

They had never been _friends_. They were never _lovers_. They were now and had always been Master and servant!

His head was spinning, he wanted to scream, but the cry could not find its way out.

Someone grabbed his arm and he reacted automatically, hitting the person who had hold of him.  
And he continued to hit them.

Again, and again, and again; and again!

The other person was not reacting. He simply deflected the blows, so not to be hurt.

When the fury had subsided, John fell to his knees, gasping for breath.

The person John had pummeled, hugged him tight and began to stroke his hair gently whispering over and over:  "It’s alright now. Everything is alright."

John recognized him by his scent and the feeling of security he conveyed. Gregory Lestrade had proved to be his friend from the moment his father Anton, had taken him from his village in the foothills of the Hellers. More than Beltran or Anton’s words, Gregory’s presence had assured John that he would not be harmed.

Greg had always guarded and protected him from a distance, as if he was the older brother he’d never had.

John’s breathing slowly returned to normal. When Greg judged that he had calmed down sufficiently, he released his hold, gently making John sit with his back to the barn wall and sitting down beside him.

John did not look at the other man, keeping his eyes fixed to the floor.

Greg patiently waited until John felt ready to talk.

"I thought he was different." he whispered at last.

"What do you mean by different?" Greg asked gently.

"I thought that he not was as selfish and arrogant as all other Comyn."

Greg smiled. "He's a Comyn. Why should he behave differently to what he is? He is what they have taught him to be."

John finally lifted his eyes from the ground and the look he turned on Greg was both hurt and furious.

"Does being Comyn give him the right to dispose of my _life_ as he wishes?” he hissed. “Is this what it means to be Comyn? Having the right to life and death over those without _Laran_ or those who are not part of their exclusive clique?"

  
Greg sighed. "Being a Comyn is not easy.” he answered. “The _Laran_ endangers their lives from the moment they enter the world. Infant mortality is high and ..."

"That justifies nothing!” John interrupted. “Power does not give you the right to do whatever you want, it should be used for duty, and to protect and to better serve the people and the government!"

Greg gave a sarcastic laugh: "Oh John, you are so naive! I wish _you_ were Comyn!"

John was somewhat offended: "Why do you think that's ridiculous?"

Greg put a hand on his arm: "Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.” he smiled. “You're so young and confident. It would be nice if you could stay like this forever. It would be even nicer if you were a Comyn and remembered what it means to be treated like most normal people. They are superior ... "

"It's not true!” an irritated John interrupted. “The fact that they have a ‘gift’ that  very few have, does not make them superior beings!"

Greg shook his head:  "You say that just because you don't have _Laran_. If you did you’d behave just like him.”

John looked towards one of the horses that had neighed for no apparent reason. He pondered what Greg had said, and wondered if the only reason he was different to Sherlock was because he had been brought up away from the influence of the Comyn court. Would he have been the same as Sherlock if he had grown up in the midst of his fellow ‘Lords’?

The horse he’d been watching remained skittish, and suddenly suspicious, John expanded his senses through his Matrix. _Sherlock_ was outside the barn door, listening to their conversation!

Furiously, he threw open the door: "Will you _never_ stop spying on me?"

Sherlock’s face was an indecipherable mask which John was way too angry to try to interpret.

"I brought you a cloak.” Sherlock said. “It’s cold and you could get seriously ill."

"God forbid that I die before marrying _dear_ Miss Morstan!” John retorted sarcastically. “Lady Irene would be forced to face the loss of her companion and in that event you would immediately be thrown into one of your infamous sulks! Far be it from me to be a source of embarrassment for the _noble_ and _great_ house of Alton! Or, have you already sourced out a replacement groom in case something _inexplicably_ happens to me?"

Because of the psychic bond that was created between them after their first night spent together, Sherlock could feel all of John’s anger and pain. It was the first time he had experienced another’s feelings as if they were his own, and he finally comprehended the depth of hurt and humiliation experienced by the only person to ever treat him as if he were a normal human being instead of a monster.

Without responding, he put his cloak over John’s shoulders, enfolding John within its warmth, then he turned and walked back to the castle.

John was completely dumbstruck by Sherlock’s actions and could only stare at his back as he walked away.

\-------------------------

The snowstorm continued well into the next morning.

John had spent the remainder of the night in Greg’s rooms. When he awoke, he came downstairs to find Lestrade preparing breakfast.

"Thank you for putting me up for the night.” he said. “I hope this doesn’t cause you problems with Sherlock."

The man smiled, "I do not think it will. In fact, I think he will be grateful to me for not allowing the most important person in his life to sleep in the barn!"

John grimaced. "I don’t think _I'm_ the person who is most important to him." he mumbled in a melancholy voice.

Greg stopped cutting bread and frowned: "How many years have passed since we collect you from your village?" he asked.

John looked puzzled: "Twelve years, you know that as well as I do."

"Right. And in all those twelve years do you _still_ not understand Sherlock?"

John blushed: "Well ... I know ... I thought ... until last night ... now ..."

Lestrade dropped his hands onto John's shoulders in comfort and support.

"I’ve known Sherlock since he was born.” he said. “You know that my father was the Commander of the Guards of Alton before me, so I was always hanging around the castle - haunting it, you could say. So when I tell you that you are the best thing that could have ever happened to that boy, you can be assured I am right!”

“Before you came, no one would approach him. Everyone may have been wary of his power, but they were absolutely _terrified_ of his deductions and his habit of mercilessly revealing every little secret or weakness of those around him. The consequence for him was isolation and loneliness. And the more isolated he became, the more acidic and biting his deductions! Then you came along."

"Oh certainly! Of course, he is really improved!" John exclaimed sarcastically.

Greg laughed: "You may not believe it, but he _is_ greatly improved. When you're around, he can be almost gentle, as if he is seeing people through your eyes and actually understanding their feelings! I do not know what happened between the two of you last night, but never doubt his feelings for you!”

He returned to the table to cut the remaining bread: “Remember that he brought you his cloak so you wouldn’t get cold. He would not have done that for anyone else."

John sighed and began to help Greg preparing breakfast.

\-------------------------

It took several more hours before the storm finally dropped in intensity.

Once it did, John returned to the castle and sought out Sherlock, knocking on his room door.

"Come in."

He was sitting by the fireplace reading and didn’t look up when he was approached, but John knew he was only pretending to read.

He sat down in the chair next to Sherlock’s and waited.

Sherlock continued his charade without even turning the page.

After nearly ten minutes, during which time neither of them had moved or had spoken, Sherlock finally put an end to the farce.

"Even _my_ marriage was announced to me as a _fait accompli_.” he said. “No one asked _me_ if I wanted to marry this woman I have never even laid eyes on. My own family only see me as racehorse to be bred to give them an heir!"

"That's because of your _Laran_ , isn’t it? Because you have the Alton _Laran_ in its purest form. They told me that someone like you has not been born for centuries."

"Lucky me!” Sherlock muttered. “And they have chosen the ‘right’ wife in the hope that I leave my **_curse_** to someone of the next generation. And just how will _he_ survive without having someone like you at his side?"

John frowned in surprise: "You mean to help overcome threshold sickness?” he asked. “That’s not something only I can do. Any _Leronis_ could have helped you."

"That's not what you are to me,” Sherlock replied, “But that's not the problem. The fact is, you're angry because you thought that I had acted behind your back without consideration for your feelings. You're right, in a way. That’s  what they did with me, so I thought there was nothing wrong doing it to you."

John looked away, staring at the fire crackling in the fireplace.

"It's not just that.”  he admitted reluctantly “I never thought it possible that our friendship could turn into this ... relationship.” He exhaled and inhaled a few times before continuing “I always knew that there was no future for us, but I still didn’t want it to end!"

Sherlock closed the book with an angry snap, staring furiously at John.

"Why would you think this will end? Who will prevent us from continuing to love each other? We will do our duty towards our wives, but why should we give up our love?"

"Because they **_will not_** allow us to continue! You are Sherlock Lewis Holmes Alton and I am John Watson. We could enjoy ourselves until we were kids, but now that we have grown and you have a responsibility to your family, our love must give way to duty or they _will_ destroy us. And you know it!"

Sherlock did not say anything as he looked from John's face to the fire.

They stayed that way for the rest of the afternoon; sitting quietly in their seats, no longer speaking. Staring at the flames within the fireplace that slowly died away, consumed by the chill wind of winter.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------


	10. Mad World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Come the Brides, leading definitely unexpected surprises.

  
**[Chapter](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3906340/chapters/8742100)10** **: Mad World**

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Spring had arrived.

Nature was reborn and the valley around Armida was a bright green dotted with a myriad of infinite colors.

The people of the castle were bustling in their preparations to welcome Sherlock’s bride. The marriage would be celebrated on the day after the arrival of the woman. 

John had left the room adjacent to Sherlock’s and moved into a small house near the servants quarters, where he would live with a girl that no one had ever seen.

 On the morning of the arrival of Irene Camilla Adler Ridenow, Sherlock rose early. John stood by him a few minutes later, to help him prepare.

"How did you sleep in the new house?" Sherlock asked, trying to make conversation. 

"Well." John replied succinctly.

In the last days before the wedding, John had tried to spend as little time as possible with Sherlock and responded to question only in monosyllables. Sherlock could not understand this approach, but did not want to force John to do something he did not want. However he missed their conversations and their comaradery.  
The entire situation was exasperating!

John clearly perceived Sherlock’s feelings. "Now we begin a new phase of our lives. What there was between us it was good, but it's over now."

He did not turn to look at Sherlock, because it hurt too much to look at him. Without waiting for Sherlock to respond, he headed back to the stables to check on the horses.

 Eventually the guards announced that the bridal convoy was in sight.

The master wagon was painted red with black trim and the arms of House Ridenow. It stopped in the courtyard and an Alton servant quickly opened the door.

Damon Kadarin Adler Ridenow was the first to exit. He was a middle-aged man, fat and placid, with white hair and black eyes, and he approached Rafael Holmes to shake his hand.

"Rafael! What a pleasure to see you again! Let me introduce my daughter."

And he extended his hand into the carriage leading out a smiling young woman.

Sherlock studied his bride critically. She was a brunette of moderate height and thin build. She possessed sharp but pleasant features, with deep black eyes and an innocent yet cheeky smile. What mostly struck young Holmes was the fact of not being able to immediately deduce her. It seemed that Irene was simultaneously everything, and its opposite: soft and hard, strong and weak, submissive and aggressive, shy and flirty.

It was a real mystery for Sherlock, and he was fascinated.

John saw it at once and his heart clenched in pain, because Sherlock was falling under her spell! But then,  that was the way everything was meant to go.

Damon led his daughter before the Lord of Alton.

"Rafael, you remember my daughter Irene, don’t you?"

Lord Holmes smiled politely. "How can anyone forget such a beauty? Allow me to introduce my son, Sherlock.”

So he is saying, he nodded to his son, who stepped forward immediately.

"Sherlock Lewis Holmes Alton at your service, now and forever," he said, turning to his bride.

"Irene Camilla Adler Ridenow, now and forever yours." replied the young woman with a soft voice.

While Sherlock, Irene and their parents made their way to the castle, a young blonde woman dressed in plain clothes appeared at the door of the carriage. Blue eyes studied the courtyard and the castle, curious and lively.

John slowly approached. "Welcome to Castle Armida. My name is John Watson."

The young woman gave him a radiant smile.  John could see that she was relieved to find that his appearance was pleasant. It was only then that Watson realized that she too had been forced into an unwanted marriage.

"Mary Morstan." she replied in a melodious voice.

  
John smiled and helped her alight from the carriage.

At that moment Sherlock turned back, looking for John, and saw him smile to a young blonde woman.  
Sherlock's face became suddenly serious and he felt a nagging twinge in the pit of the stomach.  
This was the woman who would drive a wedge between himself and John.

He had hoped that she would be less presentable. Seeing her so pretty and radiant made him fear he could lose John’s love to her.

John, however, felt himself to be a prisoner. A prisoner of House Hastur; a prisioner to his secret powers; a prisoner of this marriage he’d never wanted; a prisoner of his love for Sherlock. Sherlock, who did not, could not know that John felt as if he were _suffocating_.

He felt at the mercy of every little thing, helpless in the face of decisions made about his life by other people, while he was unable to show the least resistance or refuse to meet their expectations.

And it was with this oppression in his heart that John Watson was allowing yet another person into his life, one to whom he would have a duty of care; knowing that in doing so he must give up Sherlock - and hoping (for his sanity) that Sherlock would let him do so!

 --------------------------------------

The sun shone brightly on the wedding of Sherlock and Irene.

When John had turned up to Sherlock’s rooms early in the morning to help him get dressed, it appeared to him as if Sherlock had not slept.

At the welcoming banquet the previous evening, Sherlock had talked and laughed with Irene for a long time. John had been placed at a table a fair distance away, next to Mary, and had spent the evening chatting pleasantly with her under the watchful eye of Greg Lestrade.

This morning, the two men did not have much to say to each other. John did not want to talk about the future with Sherlock, because it seemed that the heart would break. Sherlock was annoyed by John closing off his emotions from him. He did not understand, nor did he _want_ to understand, that things were changing.

The silence was heavy between them and Sherlock tried to break it: "How is  your future wife?"

"She seems like a nice girl, pleasant and sweet," John replied.

John was arranging some things that Sherlock had left lying around. He knew that the servants would come to prepare the room for the wedding night, but Sherlock was protective of certain objects and did not want the servants touching them, so John had always been the one to arrange them when they were out of place.

Sherlock watched as John finished his tidying. He wanted to pull him to himself, to hug and kiss him; to make love to him; to lie next to him, absorbing the soothing warmth that emanated from John’s body. But he felt that if he did, his friend-cum-lover would fall to pieces like a glass sculpture falling to the ground. After so many years together, this was the first time Sherlock had felt so far away from John, almost as if he were from another planet. He felt the pain and unhappiness that mingled inside him, but did not know how to deal with the situation.

So he decided to keep quiet.

And John did the same.

And they waited in silence until they were called for the start of the ceremony.

 ---------------------------------

Irene Camilla Adler Ridenow was in the guest room with Mary, who was helping her to dress.

A satisfied smile was on her red painted lips.

"It could have been worse.” she said. “Having seen Mycroft before I was expecting another little monster like him! Instead, Sherlock is simply _fascinating_! It will be fun to be his wife and have sex with him. I will have many things to teach him. What of your future husband? He didn’t seem too bad either!"

Mary smiled, "He is, in fact, a very kind and gentle man; He almost seems sad. But it is a fleeting feeling."

"The important thing is that no one suspects our plan.” Irene said. “These marriages do not last long, so our sacrifice will be short, but with great reward. Let's enjoy what our husbands can give us, then when they are no more, we can entertain ourselves as we deserve!"

Mary looked at her seriously. "Do you really think we'll have to kill them to get what we want?"

Irene raised an eyebrow in surprise. "What is it, Mary? Don’t tell me you're in love with the squire! Are you really becoming sentimental?"

Mary looked away abruptly. "Don’t be ridiculous! It’s not love,” she retorted, annoyed, “I just think we could gain control of Armida _without_ killing Sherlock. You've always been good at getting others to do just what you want. Don’t you think you could manipulate Sherlock like a puppet? Wouldn’t that would be a more rewarding way to control an Alton, rather than eliminating them? You can always fall back on these desperate measures later if your natural wiles fail!"

Irene’s blacks eyes glowed evilly. "Control an Alton with pure power and maneuver him as I will?” she whispered, intrigued, “That would be fantastic! James, however, would not be happy about the change in his  plans."

"But if we follow the Moriartys’ plan you would not truly be the Lady of Armida.” Mary interrupted.

“As Sherlock’s widow you would still be submissive to James and at the mercy of his whims. While you are Holmes’ wife, however, Moriarty will not be able to touch you - even if his brother _is_ chosen as the Heir of Hastur as everyone seems to think will happen. And you will be in control. _If_ you play your cards right with your husband you will never have to obey anyone! Sherlock does not seem to be overly familiar with either women or sex to be able to compete with you for control. Or do you think what they say about him it's true? That no one can control him because he has the full true power of the Altons?"

Irene looked offended. "There’s yet to be a man who won’t submit to what I want!" she said in a harsh tone.

Mary suppressed a smile of satisfaction. "So, why do you want to obey James Moriarty when you could be in command of everything?"

"And you, what would you gain from this?” Irene asked suspiciously. “After all, you just married his squire!"

Mary smiled reassuringly. "I'm sure you’ll know how to reward my loyalty. If we both betray James, we'll need to stick together, don’t you think?"

Irene's eyes narrowed, "I will reflect on your suggestion."

  ---------------------------------

The late afternoon sun lit the gardens of Armida with a soft red light when Beltran Hastur clasped the marriage bracelets around the wrists of the couple.

He had not had a chance to talk with John, but he could see how he was suffering. Even he could not prevent John’s marriage to this woman chosen for him by Lord Holmes. He would have needed to provide sound reasons against the match, and it was not yet time for John’s true identity to be revealed.

The problem of his nephew’s marriage to Mary Morstan would be solved once John was proclaimed the Heir.   
Regis was already considering girls who would be a suitable wife for John.

Beltran had tried to dissuade his brother from seeking a woman for his nephew, because he thought that John’s life was already at the mercy of everyone’s the will but his own. However, being a Hastur also meant been unable to freely choose your life.

\-------------------------------------------

The banquet that followed the ceremony was magnificent and worthy of an Alton.  
The bride and groom smiled happily and danced gracefully all evening before their elegantly attired guests. It was as if they were made to be together.

John did not take part in the reception. As while the banquet was taking place in the main hall of the castle, he was marrying Mary in the modest house that from this point on would be their own.

John and Mary’s ceremony and wedding feast took place in front of a handful of servants and soldiers, all of them more acquaintances of John than Mary. Lestrade, as always, remained quietly steady at John’s side. He did not approve of this marriage, but he knew no-one could disobey the orders of The Alton.  
He saw John smile in apparent happiness, but knew him too well not to understand that it was all an act.

The banquet in the little house did not last long and the couple were soon left alone.

Mary retired to the bedroom to put on her nightgown and wait for her husband.

The dress was of simple red cotton reaching to just below the knee, with long sleeves ending at the wrists in delicate black lace. The neckline was low and lined with the same delicate black lace - the only nod to sensuality.

It would have been easy to fall into her arms and forget, but John did not want that.

"You look beautiful, Mary.” he murmured sweetly.

“I don’t want to hurt you, but I won’t have sex with you tonight. We only met yesterday and what we would do tonight would just be sex,  another task to complete, an act that had nothing to do with the affection and respect two married people should have for each other. It would be unfair to start our life together in that way. I'm sorry. I'm not rejecting you and I promise that I will behave as husband to you sooner or later, but I cannot tonight."

He approached the bed with a knife and made a small wound to his hand, letting a few drops of blood fall on the bridal sheet.

He raised his blue eyes to his wife, who was staring surprise, and left the house.

Lifting the hood of his cloak over his head, John headed to the north tower, knowing that there he would be alone. Climbing to the top of the tower, he took out his Matrix and reached out to Sherlock’s mind, merging only to the edge of his friend’s consciousness, so he would not know that he was there.

  ---------------------------------

Sherlock was in the bridal chamber with his new wife.

Irene wore a slinky black gown of finely worked silk which fell to her ankles, the long sleeves open from shoulder to wrist, allowing the white skin of her arms to be seen.

And the neckline left _nothing_  to the imagination, showcasing her perfect breasts.

With her black hair loose on her shoulders, Irene glided sensuously up to her husband, slowly undressing . While staring deep into his eyes, she trailed chaste kisses down his neck and back up to his lips.

Sherlock felt the desire growing inside him, along with excitement and curiosity at the thought of having sex with this woman. But he couldn’t help but wonder if John had already made love to his new wife;  whether he had enjoyed it or was feeling the lack of Sherlock’s presence.

Irene distracted him from his thoughts by drawing him to their marital bed, laying him down and sitting  naked astride him.

Irene covered Sherlock’s body with increasingly passionate kisses, licking and stroking, until her husband’s cock was in a suitable state to penetrate her. At that point, she lay down on the bed, pulling him on top of her, positioning him and making him enter her.  She moved her hips in unison with Sherlock’s thrusts until they both reached orgasm, moaning through the pleasure with him.

For just a moment, she felt a huge weight on her mind as if something was trying to take it over, but the feeling faded quickly and Irene’s memory of the sensation went with it.

She had been surprised that Sherlock was not as inexperienced as she had been led to believe, but she assumed Holmes had been ‘instructed’ in the art of love by some prostitute in an effort not to make him look bad on their wedding night.

Satisfied with her results in pleasing her young husband, she began to stimulate him once more. She would make sure he depended on her so deeply that he could refuse her nothing!

Irene swiftly brought her husband close to orgasm once more, but the name he called at climax made her blood run cold in her veins. Instead of invoking her name, Sherlock yelled "JOHN!"

\---------------------------------

 John was still at the top of the tower, having prevented Sherlock’s power from devastating his new wife’s mind. Not unexpectedly, the wine and excitement had made him lose control of his _Laran.  
_ John remained at the limits of his friend’s mind until he finally fell asleep; then, tired and unhappy, he replaced his Matrix in its bag.

"You can come out from your hiding place," he called to his night.

Someone slowly moved up alongside John from deep amongst the shadows of the tower.

"How long have you known I was here?" Greg Lestrade asked him.

"Since I left the house; and you followed me.” John said lowering his hood, revealing his blond hair  which shone in the subtle light of the four Darkoveran moons.

“Were you afraid I was going to throw myself off the tower?"

"Something like that." grumbled an embarrassed Lestrade.

"Thank you for being my friend, Greg.” John said.  “Though I’m not desperate enough to kill myself, it's nice to know there is someone here who cares about my well-being!"

"Lord Sherlock will always care about you." Lestrade replied.

"I know, but now nothing will be as it was before.”

John's voice was very quiet. He was exhausted from the sheer amount of energy he’d had to expend to control Sherlock. “I'm glad you're here. I don’t think I can get home alone."

"You have a matrix, right?” Lestrade asked him shrewdly. “Who are you really, John? I've been wondering that since the day we took you from your parent’s village."

John stared at him, a look of profound sadness on his face. "I am a prisoner,” he answered. “I have obligations to so many people and no choice about my own fate."

Watson sighed deeply and Lestrade made the conscious decision to respect his privacy, adding simply: "If you need a friend, you know that I'll be there for you. Always!"

John smiled gratefully.

   ---------------------------------

The next day, the awakening castle was greeted with the news that the newlyweds were going to spend a few days in a small Alton estate a little distance from Castle Armida.

When John and Mary arrived at Sherlock and Irene’s rooms to help them prepare, they found the luggage already packed ready to go.

"We’re leaving now,” Irene said, happy and satisfied; “And you will remain here. Since the two of you have just married, we’ve decided to give you a gift too. We want you to have a few days just for yourselves. While we're away, you can enjoy the joys of marriage just as we will be."

And so saying, she wound her arm around Sherlock’s back, while with her other hand, she grabbed his neck pulling his head down to kiss him passionately on the lips.

Sherlock returned the kiss which lasted for some time. John looked away, while Mary smiled in satisfaction, believing her plan to be working.

John tried not to make it clear to the others how much that kiss had hurt him.

"If everything is ready,” he said with a tight smile, “Let's start our honeymoons."

Sherlock stared at him perplexed, unable to decipher what had come over him.

"Sure go on then. Have fun!" Irene responded mischievously.

The Alton couple left for their honeymoon straight after breakfast, while John and Mary walked to the castle.  
Mary listened to the anecdotes that John told and smiled at his jokes.

That night, John again refused to make love to his wife, once more leaving the house to go to the North Tower. Despite the physical distance between Sherlock and John, thanks to a combination of the bond that was created on the first night they had made love and the power of his Matrix, Watson could hear the mind of Holmes and prevent him from devastating his wife.

John could not understand why it was so difficult for Sherlock to maintain control over his own power, but he figured it was due to a level of excitement that Irene provided Sherlock which he had never given him.

The following day was spent in the same way: while the Holmes’ were enjoying their honeymoon, the Watsons still had not consummated their marriage.

Sherlock and Irene had been gone a week and over the past few nights John had realized that Sherlock had finally learned how not to endangered his wife’s mind, so he made a decision.

Back at the house, he found that Mary was waiting for him.

John sat on the bed, next to her: "I guess you're wondering what kind of man you have forced to marry?" he began with a smile.

Mary looked at him amused: "A sweet man who doesn’t want much from his wife."

John sighed. "The reason we’ve waited so long is my fault, not yours. You are a beautiful woman and nothing would please me more than to make love to you, but I did not want it to be a duty. I know that we’ve not spent a lot of time together, but now we know each other a bit better and I think we can take this step - if you still want to."

"Nothing would please me more than to make you happy." Mary replied.

John shook his head: "Don’t do it just to make me happy, but to make you happy also. If you agree to do this  just because you think it's what everyone expects from you, don’t! I can wait!"

Mary watched the strange man she had married. She couldn’t put a finger on it, but she felt contented with him and she had discovered that she would do anything for a glimpse of his smile.

She never understood why she decided to be candid with him. "The night we got married, you put a few drops of blood on the sheet."

John nodded, "It is tradition for the women of the family to check the bridal bed the next morning, to verify that the marriage has been consummated and that the bride was a virgin. I have no family here, but some  of the women in the castle treat me as if I were their child and I did not want you embarrassed for a decision that I took."

Mary was looked him straight in the eye and without shame, confessed: "When we make love, you’ll realize that you are not my first."

John smiled reassuringly, "Nor would I pretend so. Your past is your past, Mary, and I will not ask you to give me an explanation of it, because I do not have that right. What I do care about is our future. I cannot expect you to love me, because love is something that cannot be demanded; but as we are married and have spoken our Vows, I ask only that you respect them and do not betray me. And I will give you my word that I will do the same."

Mary felt a great warmth well up from her heart, something she had never felt before.

She stroked her husband’s cheek gently, "I swear that I will be faithful, until the day one of us dies."

And she kissed him on the mouth.

John returned her kiss and let her undress him. Mary found the bag that contained the Matrix. "You have _Laran_?" she asked, surprised.

John sighed, now so accustomed to lying about his power that he could do it without thinking.  "No, not an array. It's a gift from my mother and I never remove it."

Mary smiled, "I only asked because it would have been nice to have a child with _Laran_ , but any child we  have will be special, irrespective of whether or not it possesses _Laran_."

John shuddered.  He had not even considered the idea of becoming a father once he was married, but it was a definite possibility. What would become of this child?

Meanwhile, Mary made him lie down on the bed. She removed her nightgown and knelt over him.  
There was no doubt that she was the more experience one, and she used her experience in ways that ensured both of them took pleasure from their first coupling.

John let Mary drag him into a vortex of pleasure and passion, forgetting for however brief a time, his only true love.

 When the newlyweds returned from their honeymoon the following week, the Leronis of Armida had the pleasure of announcing that they would soon be welcoming  two new people into their lives: Irene and Mary were pregnant.

\-------------------------------


	11. Fragile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revenge should be enjoyed cold.

  
**[Chapter](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3906340/chapters/8742100)11** **:  Fragile**

The short Darkovan summer had passed, giving way to a warm autumn.

Irene’s and Mary’s pregnancies proceeded smoothly.

Sherlock and John had showered attention and kindness on their wives, trying to satisfy their every desire, while simultaneously attempting to repress their feelings for each other.

They had been two boys discovering sex, but they were now both expectant fathers, and their relationship had to be forgotten.

This reasoning worked perfectly -  until they found themselves in the same room and stared into each other’s eyes. Then, the desire to kiss, caress and make love was almost overwhelming.

They had hoped that time would put end to the torment of their impossible love, but it seemed there was no way to prevent their hearts from beating faster and their pupils dilating whenever they were together.

So, in an unspoken decision, John chose to avoid Sherlock much as possible.

He asked Rafael to be relieved of his duties as Sherlock’s Squire, and to be re-assigned fully to the care of the horses for which Armida was famous across the planet.

Rafael immediately acceded to the request, not only because he knew how very good John was with the animals, but also  because he wanted to remove him from proximity to his younger son so that his daughter-in-law did not come to know what had happened between the two men in the past.

Sherlock did not protest John’s change of duties, though he had it leaked that he was beyond annoyed.

\--------------------------------------

With the coming of Autumn, Rafael, Eileen and Mycroft headed to Thendara to take their places in the  planetary government, entrusting  the running of Armida to Sherlock.

 John was in the barn grooming one of the horses, stroking and speaking softly. He did not notice someone was watching him.

"I see you're cuddling the horses now."

John was taken aback by the cold voice of Sherlock. He stiffened, knowing they were quite alone.

Sherlock closed the door of the stall and locked it from the inside.

John continued facing away from Sherlock, muscles tense and on alert, waiting for the next move. He heard him approaching slowly, feeling his irritation even before he could see his face.

Sherlock stood close behind him without touching him. John could feel his breath on his neck - so close, so far away.

"Why do you avoid me?” Sherlock demanded in an angry tone  “and don’t tell me that statement’s not true!"

John did not wish to play the part of the jilted, jealous lover, but if he answered the question truthfully he would appear to be just that.

Sherlock didn’t give him the time to think of an answer, forcibly turning him around to face him, looking intently into his eyes.

"I asked you a question! I want an answer!"

John didn’t know if he did it on purpose or if he was just so upset that he wasn’t in control of his power, but Sherlock used the Voice Command on him.  For the second time!

John knew he had to respond immediately and tried to say something plausible.

"We are both married,” he said. “What there was between us can no longer continue."

"Who says so?” Sherlock growled softly. “You? Mary? Irene?"

"Lady Irene would certainly not to talk to me of your marriage,” said John. “And my wife does not suspect anything."

"Do you think I have not noticed that every time I have sex with my wife _you_ are there? Why do you do that? Do you enjoy yourself? Is this the _‘special’_ power that made Beltran Hastur himself tutor you? Being a voyeur? Does it excite you, being in my head while I make love to my wife?"

John blushed violently.

"I do **_not_** do it for pleasure!” he hissed, starting to get angry. “I am _not_ a pervert! I put myself at the edge of your consciousness not because I want to see or know how you feel! I do so to ensure you do not _lose_ control of yourself and hurt your wife! When you were first married, I had to curb your power because you were losing control and you could have easily destroyed your wife while making love to her!"

Sherlock looked surprised. On some level he had realized he had been close to losing control, but he hadn’t realized that he had only overcome the crisis through John’s assistance.

It was like when they were children and John calmed his fears and sorrows.

Sherlock kept staring into John’s eyes, expecting him to lower them, but John held his gaze firmly.

"Why are you walking away from me?" he asked more gently.

John sighed. He knew this time would come, but had still hoped it would never happen.

"Sherlock, do you really want an answer?" he asked, wishing the other could understand without him having to articulate a response.

"Yes!" was Sherlock’s terse reply.

A flash of despair crossed John’s blue eyes, a despair Sherlock felt in his own heart. He was hurting John – yet again! He was imposing on the one person who had remained close and had accepted him without reservation.

"We talked about this. What future do we have?” whispered John. “We're married! We are about to become fathers. Are we entitled to make the two people who love us unhappy? For what? For our love? "

"And _US_? Have we no right to be happy?" Sherlock asked.

John gave a half laugh. "You are happy with Irene. You are fascinated by her; by her being a woman out of the ordinary."

"That is true,” Sherlock admitted, “Irene fascinates me. She is definitely a much more charismatic woman than many others. She motivates me and I enjoy her company, but I do not love her. Love is different. Even  I know that, though everyone thinks I don’t have the faintest idea about what it means to love. I _KNOW_ I love YOU."

John continued to shake his head.

"Do you love me?" Sherlock asked.

"Does it really matter?" John asked back.

"Of course it does!” Sherlock replied vehemently. “If you love me it changes everything!"

"What changes?” John angrily retorted. “That we could be secret lovers? That would be ridiculous! We exchanged vows with our wives! Keeping those vows is important to me."

"It doesn’t necessarily need to be e a physical relationship,” Sherlock said. “You don’t need to have sex with someone to know that you love him. I need to feel you close, to know that you are there and that I can count on your understanding, your help - your _company_. We can’t make love, but don’t abandon me. Don’t stay so far from me. You are my anchor, the only person who agrees with me, with my strengths and my weaknesses. You are the half that completes my soul. Without you, I’m cold and rational, but through you I can feel compassion and understanding. Or at least I try to!"

John whispered softly, almost too soft to be heard: "I love you too, Sherlock, you know that."

Admitting it was to demolish all the barriers he had built after their weddings. Admitting his love for Sherlock was to step over the boundary line, and from that point on there was no turning back.

"So what now?"

Sherlock continued to look into his eyes.  "I don’t know." he admitted.

\--------------------------------

After the confrontation in the barn, John and Sherlock spent more time together, still without addressing the underlying issues or restarting their relationship.

They behaved as if nothing had happened.

Although this made them both feel unhappy and incomplete, they were satisfied with what they had because it didn’t hurt their wives.

Meanwhile, Autumn drew to a close.

Sherlock decided he had to resolve the question of their relationship before the harsh Darkovan Winter compelled them to endure an agonizing proximity to each other.

He called Lestrade into the study.

"Tomorrow we leave on a hunting trip,” he said. “I want you to come with us and choose four men you trust; ones who can be trusted not to speak out of turn, whatever may happen."

"What do you mean by ‘we’, Lord Sherlock?" Greg asked, guessing the answer.

Sherlock looked up from what he was reading, studying the captain of the guard. "What do you think I mean?"

"John?" Lestrade asked with mock innocence.

Sherlock muttered irritably, "Why do you ask when you already know the answer?"

"To be certain there are no misunderstandings and to better select the people who will accompany us."

Sherlock snorted, but he knew he could trust Lestrade implicitly.

"We will head to Reichenbach Falls. There we can speak in private."

"I shall arrange everything, Sir"

\-----------------------------------

Lestrade left the study but failed to notice Irene, who slipped around the corner with a triumphant smile. This hunt was the perfect opportunity to kill Sherlock!

She headed for the west tower and removed her hawk from its cage. She put a message in a small container, which she tied to the leg of the bird and tossed him into the air.

She was already imagining the faces of those who would receive it.

\------------------------------------

After a few hours of flight, the hawk came to the tower of Castle Aldaran, where the falconer brought the message to the man who was anxiously waiting for it.

James Moriarty smiled in satisfaction as he read the details of when and where Sherlock Holmes would die.

\------------------------------------

The following day, Sherlock and John left for the hunt.

Riding in the open with the light, fresh autumn breeze in their faces put both John and Sherlock in a good mood.

The five men who were escorting them remained at a discrete distance behind them so they could speak without being heard. Sherlock and John, however, didn’t speak much, just commenting on the weather or debating whether or not to chase game.

They were enjoying the serenity of each other's company, without the constraints of Castel Armida.

Sherlock noticed that John was much more relaxed and at ease.

And so they spent their first day of travel.

\------------------------------------

The morning after their departure, Mary entered the Master bedroom at first light.

Irene was still lazing in bed.

"Where's the falcon?" Mary demanded without preamble, her mouth dry.

Irene stretched and said harshly, "Where do you think it is? I sent it to James to inform him that Sherlock is going to the Reichenbach Falls. This way, he can organize an ambush and we’ll soon both be widows!"

Mary looked furious.

Irene frowned. "This was always the plan, Mary,” she said, getting out of bed. “Why are you so upset?"

"I love John!” Mary said. “And I don’t want to lose him!"

Irene laughed dryly: "Love! As a feeling it’s overrated."

Mary approached her. "Don’t you love Sherlock?"

Irene's face darkened. "Actually, I like Sherlock very much,” she admitted tautly. “ _He_ however, doesn’t even see me. He loves your husband!"

Mary stared at her in amazement while Irene grinned mockingly at her companion.

"Didn’t you noticed, little Mary?  John and Sherlock are madly in love with each other! There isn’t a place for _us_ in their lives. We are second choices, we are but a means for them to perpetrate their family lines, nothing more!”

Her voice became cold and sharp.

“And I am **_no-one’s_** second choice! If Sherlock loved me, I might have given up on James’ plan and I would never have betrayed him. Sherlock, however, chose John and for that I can’t forgive him.”

“Since he doesn’t want me, **_I'll_ ** have Armida through the child I'm carrying!"

An angry voice was heard from behind the door.  "That will happen over my dead body!"

The door opened, revealing Lady Anthea and several household guards.

"Escort Lady Irene to the East Tower and make sure she cannot communicate with anyone."

"You damned traitor! You've sold me out for a man who doesn’t even want you! You'll pay for this!"

The guards dragged the screaming Irene from her chambers without much effort.

Lady Anthea waited until Irene was gone before turning to Mary.

"I sent a knight to look for them. Hopefully he arrives in time."

Mary stared at Anthea. "Is it true that John and Sherlock are in a relationship?"

Anthea looked a bit put out, but still replied: "They _were_ in a relationship - before their marriages. It lasted for just one winter. They broke it off before the two of you arrived, and I don’t think this has made either of them happy."

Mary's expression grew hard. "So Irene was right. I’ve betrayed Aldaran and revealed the conspiracy just to lose everything!"

Anthea felt a surge of sympathy for Mary.

"That may be the case. What you have to decide, however, is whether you prefer John to be alive and with Sherlock, or dead - if you can’t have him. The decision lies entirely within your heart.”

She turned to leave, but paused and added, “Also, you are expecting his child, and John is not the sort of man to abandon his wife - the mother of his child - whatever she may have done! And since you decided to save him, you know this as well. "

Anthea left the room. Two other guards were waiting to escort Mary to the Tower, where she waited for the return of her husband and the Lord of Armida to learn her fate.

 ------------------------------------

The second day of the trip, the sun was high in the sky and the day was hot; an unusual heat for Autumn. So, although they were travelling by horseback, they were all in shirtsleeves.

"Where are we going?”  John asked. “We are not simply following an animal trail. You have a particular destination in mind."

Sherlock smiled. "I’ve often spoken of the Reichenbach Falls. Now I want you see them."

John stared at him for a long time.

"It's where you’ve chosen to have your conversation.” It was a statement, not a question. “It must be a very noisy waterfall!"

Sherlock avoided looking at his companion. "If we have to fight, we can also yell and scream there and no one will hear us."

Sherlock felt John’s body stiffen, even without looking.

For the rest of the morning they rode in silence.

 ------------------------------------

The falls were beautiful.

The noise was deafening.

The river that fed the falls plunged over two hundred meters into the gorge before continuing on its journey; the myriad droplets of water generated met the sunlight to form multiple rainbows.

They found themselves on a natural ridge at just around the halfway point of the fall. The trees of the surrounding  forest showed an infinite variety of greens, yellows, reds and browns, typical of the late autumn.

John was hypnotized by the beauty of the landscape and gazed intently at it from the edge of the cliff. The cool Autumn breeze sent a shiver down his spine, so he went to retrieve his coat from his horse.

Sherlock had decided to give John the time he needed, before tackling the issue that was the real reason for the hunt.

He contemplated the scene presented by John against the landscape of the falls. The sun on John’s hair caused a strange red reflection, and the rainbow which seemed to spring from his body gave him an almost other-worldly appearance.

John was totally immersed in the tranquility of the place, when he suddenly realized they were not alone and the people approaching were not their bodyguards! Rather, there was someone whose presence was both threatening and dangerous.

He closed his eyes and concentrated on his surroundings as Beltran had taught him, sinking himself into his Matrix to amplify his senses.

There were five men surrounding them in close proximity, with a sixth man further away. It was this last man who was the most dangerous. He was Terran and had in his possession one of their lethal weapons that had been declared illegal in most of Darkover apart from the Terran base and the Aldaran lands.

John could clearly see from the man’s mind that he had Sherlock framed in the weapon’s viewfinder. And he was going to shoot!

With a sudden lunge, John pushed Sherlock to the ground, feeling a violent blow and a surge of pain in his left shoulder.

"It's a trap!" he shouted, trying to drown out the roar of the waterfall. John and Sherlock immediately sought shelter among the trees, so the sniper could not have a clear view, as hooded assailants sprang from the woods armed with guns and knives.

Sherlock rushed to rejoin his men, but because his injury slowed him, John was grappled by one of the  attackers.

In the fight that followed, John succeeded in pulling the hood from his opponent’s head revealing the grinning face of James Kermiac Moriarty Aldaran!

Due to his surprise, John failed to react in time to a further attack from James, resulting in his being painfully grasped by his injured shoulder, while a knife was pointed at his throat.

Sherlock, having reached his men, used his Voice Command to force the attackers to surrender, only  then realizing that John and James were poised on the brink of the Falls.

James had an almost insane gleam in his eyes. "He **_saved_** you!” he shouted over the noise of the waterfall. “This bastard messed up my perfect plan to eliminate you!"

Sherlock took a few steps closer to the men. He was afraid to use his power in case James’ reaction caused both he and John to fall.

"James,” he called a calm voice, “You’ve failed. Just give up. Let John go, and no-one will hurt you. We will let the Council of Comyn judge your actions."

James laughed, "No one will hurt me? You were supposed to **DIE**! Only by carrying out my plan could I have been saved. If **_you_** live, **_I_** will not live to see the next summer!"

Sherlock took another half-step forward. "I'll protect you, James. You have my word."

James brought his other hand to John’s chest, where to his surprise he found the bag in which John kept his Matrix.

"Well, well! Look what we have here,” he said, smirking evilly. “ _This_ explains many mysteries about you, little John. A **_Matrix_**!"  

He tore the Matrix from its pouch and held it up.

John winced visibly as if he had been brutally beaten, and the knife pierced his throat causing a trickle of blood to run down his neck, mingling with that from his injured shoulder.

Sherlock paled, experiencing John’s pain through the power of their bond. His anger grew but he was helpless to act, knowing he had to be cautious - as James was unpredictable - but needing to do _something_ because now that James had John’s Matrix, he could do anything.

Ripping John’s shirt aside, Moriarty lay the matrix against the bare skin of his chest, leaving his fingers open so that Sherlock could see exactly what he was doing. Then using the knife, he drew another thin red line down John’s neck.

The blue light of Matrix shone intensely through his parted fingers.

James's hand on the matrix was torture for John, much more so than the cuts from the knife. It felt as if James had penetrated him violently, violating both his mind and his soul, and he was completely unable to resist him.

"What did I tell you, Sherlock? I promised that I would have your little pet in my hands and you would not do anything except sit back and watch."

The knife cut John again, this time next to the still bleeding wound in his shoulder.

"What, aren’t you going to **_stop_** me? Aren’t you going to save your **_lover_**?” James taunted. “Tell me Sherlock, tell me what will you do **_now_**?"

John knew James had a Terran weapon and was using him to distract Sherlock long enough to pull it out and kill Holmes.

Fighting against his pain, John dipped his conscience into the matrix and cut his ties with Sherlock.

It felt like a delicate flower had been gently cut.

Sherlock felt a chill run down his spine and had the unsettling feeling of not being able to feel John’s presence as before.

His ice-colored eyes locked with John’s deep blue ones, but shadows from the surrounding vegetation prevented him from reading John’s intentions.

"What did you do, John?" he asked telepathically; worried.

A soft breeze moved the leaves of plants, lighting up John’s pale but calm face. "I have cut our connection, dearest one. James will never let me go. He will destroy the Matrix and try to kill you."

Sherlock was horrified, realizing John’s intentions.

"NO! DON’T DO IT! "

John smiled sadly. "I have to do it,” he replied calmly. “I have no chance to save myself and I love you too much to allow you to see me reduced to the state of a vegetable - without soul or conscience."

"There is _always_ another solution, John, give me time."

John shifted his eyes to Lestrade who heard him distinctly in his mind.

"Do not let him get hurt. Do not let him follow me. You have to protect him at any cost - _especially_ from himself. Tell him I said he must save Darkover. For me.  Thank you Greg. You’ve been a loyal friend."

Sherlock felt a calmness in John’s heart. He had found peace in the decision he had made.

"John! Do not leave me!"

"You must prevent The Aldaran from completing his plan. Do it for me, Dearest. I love you."

Sherlock rushed toward John and James, shouting above the roar of the waterfall: "NO JOHN! DO NOT DO IT! "

He shouted with his voice.

He shouted with his mind.

He **_screamed_** with his heart.

A desperate cry to prevent what was about to happen errupted from every part of his being.

James had a malicious smile on his face, completly satisfied. _Now_ he could carry out his plan.

John looked directly at Sherlock, into those ice-colored eyes that had warmed his soul.

He felt James grab the matrix from his chest and fling it aside.

It was as if someone had ripped out his beating heart.

Sherlock saw some of the light fade from John’s blue eyes. He kept shouting his name, but he did not answer.

With a melancholy smile and a final burst consciousness, John pushed back hard with all his weight, surprising and overbalancing James. Their proximity to the edge meant that the momentum of the push carried both of them over into the gorge.

James screamed, waving his arms and legs wildly as he fell into the river.

John was composed and silent, as if there were no more than a breath of life in the body that was falling to the swirl of the waterfall. Like a leaf torn from its tree is forced to submit to the whims of the wind, drifting up to an unknown destination.

Sherlock continued his race to John, repeatedly shouting his name, ready to dive in and follow him, but Lestrade had called on aid of two of his men and they caught him before he reached the edge.

Sherlock tried to pull away, struggling, continuing to call for John, but the other three men held firm, dragging him away from the edge of the terrace.

"John doesn’t want that!” Lestrade shouted. “John wants you alive to save Darkover."

Desperate, Sherlock fell to his knees, not far from John’s matrix.

He picked it up gently from the ground, wrapping it in a silk handkerchief.

The blue light of the Matrix slowly faded away and Sherlock found himself with a useless, cold gem in his hands, one which no longer held the shining soul of John Watson.

\------------------------------------------


	12. Who Wants To Live Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who destroyed Sherlock's heart?

**[Chapter ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3906340/chapters/8742100)12 ** **:  Who Wants to Live Forever?**

Sherlock held John’s Matrix in his hands, wrapped tightly in a silk handkerchief.

He stared at it as if  he could will it to suddenly shine again. He was completely lost in his own world, unable to respond to his surroundings, when he suddenly jumped up.

"We need to go to the river! He might be injured!"

Without waiting for anyone he ran into the woods, heedless of the branches that scratched him, rushing down to the bottom of the gorge, near the base of the waterfall.

He needed to find and help John if he had survived the fall.

It didn’t matter that the matrix didn’t shine anymore. They could solve any other problem once they found him.

Arriving at the river side, Sherlock finally halted, breathless. He frantically scanned the turbulent waters, the sound of the waterfall overpowering his senses.

Sherlock _felt_ rather than heard what Lestrade was saying by his side.

Greg was pointing at something floating in the river: a body!

Without thinking, Sherlock jumped into the water, closely followed by Lestrade.

On reaching the body, they could immediately realized that it did not belong to John – the black hair left no room for doubt.

Regardless, they dragged the body to shore, turning it over. James Moriarty’s face was covered in scratches and the skull misshapen, probably due to an impact against the rocks; but without a doubt it was the Aldaran and he was definitely dead.

Sherlock stared at James with a deep hatred and looked back at the turbulent waters of the river.

"You **cannot** give back Moriarty and keep John!” he yelled pointing at the river as if it could understand him. “Give him back to me! "

The river did not respond to Sherlock’s desperate request, continuing to flow to the sea, indifferent to the human’s sorrow.

 ----------------------------------------- 

Lestrade watched as Sherlock continued to scan the river for John’s body. They had searched a fair stretch of shore in the  hopes that the current had dragged the body downstream.

The Commander of the Armida Guards was worried about Holmes - of how he would react to the loss of his friend. If they couldn’t recover the corpse, he feared the young man would never be truly convinced about John’s death.

And John _HAD_ to be dead. If he had survived that fall, they would already have found him.

Sending two men to seach further along the river bank, he and Sherlock returned to the point at which John and James had fallen for a more thorough search.

The sound of someone on horseback reached them, and turning, they saw one of the guards from Armida appear from between the trees.

Lestrade approached the knight: "Jasper, what are you doing here?"

The man dismounted, snapping off a salute.  "Sir, Lady Anthea sent me,”he said. “We’ve received news of an ambush planned against Lord Sherlock. "

Looking around, the guard noticed the prisoners and a body covered by a blanket. He raised a questioning look to his commander who answered the unspoken question:

"We have been attacked by men of Aldaran. How did Armida know? "

"Mary Watson informed Lady Anthea that Lady Irene had sent a hawk to Aldaran to inform them where they could find Lord Sherlock to kill him."

Sherlock finally roused himself from his stupor, striding purposefully toward the soldier.

"What did you say?” he demanded, his voice fierce. “My wife and John’s are Aldaran spies?"

The man backed away, frightened by the intesity of Sherlock’s glare.

"So? Reply! _Who_ is part of the plot!"

"Lady Irene and MaryWatson, Lord, but I know nothing more," stammered the terrified guardsman.

Sherlock turned to Lestrade.  "We leave now for Armida. Keep two men here to patrol the banks of the river."

He was heading for his horse, when Lestrade joined him. "Lord Sherlock, night is about to fall and it will be risky to travel that distance in the dark..."

Sherlock turned on Lestrade angrily. "Are you trying to countermand my order?" he asked coldly.

Greg was not to be intimidated. "No, Lord Sherlock, I'm simply trying to protect your life, as John asked of me."

Sherlock grabbed Lestrade tightly by the arms. "What precisely did he say to you?"

"To protect you from yourself and to help stop Aldaran."

Sherlock was shaking so hard that he was physically hurting Lestrade, but he did not protest.

Holmes’ gaze fell and he abruptly released his grip on the Commander’s arms.

"Very well. We will leave tomorrow morning at dawn."

Lestrade smiled with relief. "As you command, Lord Sherlock. I will prepare a horse to carry Moriarty’s  body ... "

"Leave it for the crows!" Sherlock said angrily.

Lestrade didn’t know how much could insist, but he tried. "My Lord, he is a Comyn ..."

"He is John’s murderer!" Sherlock hissed.

"And he wouldn’t approve of you leaving the corpse."

Sherlock stared at him angrily. Lestrade feared he’d crossed the line, but Holmes turned back towards the river. "You are right,” he said gruffly,  “John wouldn’t approve. We will take the body to Armida."

He turned back to stare threateningly at Greg, "But you will listen carefully to me, Lestrade. Do not think that John’s name will grant you indefinite immunity to my wrath, because it will not. Exceed my limits and I will have **your skin**! Literally."

That said, Sherlock returned to the river, searching the waters that were becoming darker, with nightfall.

Lestrade realized that John's death would cause many problems for Armida, especially now that Rafael and Mycroft were in Thendara. It would have been difficult even two days ago to make Sherlock understand what was right or not right, and now there was no one left who could contain his fury and his pain.

 ----------------------------------

 They left next morning at the break of dawn, and before long  found themselves in the middle of an out of season snowstorm. Winter seemed to have arrived abruptly and with considerable force.

Sherlock forced the pace and did not allow the men any break that it was not for eating. As such, they arrived at Armida just before nightfall.

The body of James Moriarty was unceremoniously dumped from the horse.

Sherlock turned to Lestrade, indicating the body of Aldaran. "Do what you want with it."

He strode into the castle where Anthea was waiting at the door, peering anxiously at the faces of the men who had returned. When Sherlock drew close, she asked:

"Where's John?"

Sherlock didn’t answer, didn’t stop and walked briskly into the castle toward the east tower, in which Mary and Irene were imprisoned.

Anthea was almost forced into run to keep up with him.

She having seen Sherlock’s face and not seeing John returned from the hunt, she was scared.

Sherlock burst into Mary’s room: "Who do you work for?" He asked without preamble.

Mary wasn’t impressed by Sherlock’s fury. She calmly stood up, looking past the man's shoulders for her husband, but saw only a pale and out of breath Anthea enter the cell.

"Where's John?” she asked, “Where is my husband? I want to see him. I will speak only in his presence."

Sherlock's eyes were of a blue so clear that they seems really of ice, as did his voice:

"Your friend Moriarty snatched John’s matrix and dragged him into the Reichenbach Falls. The river didn’t return his body, but his gem has ceased to shine. Do you know what that means?"

"John told me he was not gifted with Laran," whispered Mary.

"He understood that he couldn’t trust you, so he lied to you,” Holmes said in an acidity tone of voice. “He did have Laren, but even that didn’t save his life."

Mary put her hand to her mouth, but could not stifle a cry of despair.

Sherlock grabbed her hair and pulled her head back: "Don’t you cry for him!” he hissed furiously. “You are responsible for his death!"

Mary blinked back tears, not wanting to be seen as weak from man who was holding her life and that of her son.

"I _tried_ to save him,” she said in a firm voice. “I love my husband."

"Don’t you dare say that you love him!” shouted Sherlock. “If that had been the case, you would have told us that we were in danger! Instead you were silent and now John is dead! **_Tell me_** who you work for!"

Sherlock had used the Voice Command. Even Anthea, who was not the direct recipient of the order, shuddered.

Mary had no choice but to respond.

"The Aldaran paid Irene to come to Armida. She was to marry you and become pregnant by you. She was then to inform James when it would be possible to kill you, so she could gain control of Armida, as Regent of the heir. I tried to convince Irene not to carry out James’ plan,  but to use sex to control you and make you do what she wanted. I thought I had convinced her, but when I saw that the hawk was gone, I realized that she had contacted Moriarty to arrange your assassination. I revealed everything to Lady Anthea, to save John."

Sherlock let go of her head: "Why did you marry John?"

"Because Moriarty wanted to hurt you and I just figured out how. You loved my husband and seeing him with me had to cause you pain. John swore that he would respect the marriage vows and that he wouldn’t betray me."

Sherlock's gaze was a mixture of pain, regret and anger: "John has kept his word. Since he knew he would have to marry you, he put an end to our relationship. He was honest and sincere, unlike you."

Sherlock walked toward the door to leave, but Mary called him back:  "What will become of my son and me?"

Sherlock turned and his voice was sharp as a knife: " John’s son of will be raised in Armida. You will pay for his death."

"You will take my son from me?" Mary asked with a voice full of anguish.

Sherlock moved so close to Mary that she could feel his hot breath on her face.

"I'll have the _Leronis_ check on you. If she confirms that the baby is John’s son, you’ll be lucky -  because it means I'll let you live until he is born. Otherwise, you will not see another night!"

And he stormed out the door, followed by an ever more frightened Anthea.

Anthea ran after Sherlock, stopping him before he could break into Irene’s cell.

"Please stop!” she begged. “You cannot sentence either Mary or Irene to death. Nor you can snatch their children."

Sherlock stood and spoke in a deep, low voice:  "Anthea, don’t tell me what I can or cannot do. You're the wife of Mycroft, of course, but you're ONLY Mycroft’s wife. Have I been clear? Go to your rooms and take care of _your_ child. I can handle this without your help. Do not _make me_  shut you up."

That said, Sherlock entered the cell where his wife was held prisoner.

 -------------------------------- 

Anthea did not move for a few seconds after Sherlock left, then with a firm step, she headed straight  towards the west tower where the  messenger falcons were kept.

On arrival, she found Lestrade preparing a message.

"Lady Anthea,” he greeted her with a bow, “I think we both have the same idea."

"I think so too,”she replied. “The pain of John’s loss is blinding Sherlock. My husband or my father-in-law **_must_** return to Armida to reason with him."

"I was sending a message to Thendara, but I worry about this storm. It's still very early in the season, but it would not be the first time that the road is blocked by an avalanche. If they can’t make it back,  this will be a very long winter. "

"I am sending this message to my husband."

Lestrade looked surprised, "Why?"

"When he finds out that a message was sent to his father and his brother, Sherlock will not be happy. You are the Commander of the Guards, I am the wife of Mycroft. Sherlock has just pointed out that I am _only_ the wife of Mycroft, but as the wife of his brother and he will be forced to limit his anger. He wouldn’t be nice with you, Commander.”

"You are right,” Lestrade was forced to admit it. “Hopefully we are wrong and Lord Sherlock will regain control of himself."

Anthea sighed, "I hope so too, Commander, but I would not count on it. I just hope that Mycroft able to return as soon as possible."

The snowstorm raged violently.

It seemed that the planet itself was furious over the death of John Watson.

Anthea hoped the bad weather didn’t prevent Rafael and Mycroft returning quickly to Armida. While in pain over John’s loss, Sherlock could do anything.

 ------------------- 

Sherlock, meanwhile, had entered Irene’s cell slamming the door.

Irene had slowly turned her head to look into her husband’s eyes, but she wasn’t at all intimidated by his entrance. She gave him a smile and asked derisively:

"I see you're all right, my hubby, but what's with the sulky little face? Are you angry with me because the great expouser of deduction didn’t understand that his wife was cheating?"

Sherlock’s look was indecipherable to her.

"Mary told me that you had another plan that would not involve anyone’s death. Why did you prefer to submit to Aldaran, rather than trying to control me? Was it too hard for you?"

Irene stood and faced him, furious: "The another plan foresaw that you fell in love with me and that I could control you through sex! But we both know that would never be possible. _I’m_ not the object of your desires!"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, "What would make you say that?" he asked coldly.

"That first night, to make you more malleable, I gave you an aphrodisiac. But do you know who you called to at the height of pleasure? You called John. **_JOHN!_** “ shouted Irene. “You were making love to **_ME_** and you didn’t even have the courtesy to call out to another woman - which I might have been able to endure - but to a MAN!"

Sherlock approached her menacingly.  "That man that you despise so much, saved your life. Those drugs that you administered made it impossible for me to keep my power in check. I would have destroyed your mind, if John didn’t intervene!"

Irene was not impressed.

"That just means that I’ll have ti thank him the next time I see him, and maybe I can explain to him some of those _games_ you so loved,” she added in a derogatory tone. “I guess now you will get rid of both your unfaithful and unworthy wives and finally end up rolling around in the sheets together!"

Sherlock straightened to his full height and hissed, "Part of the Moriarty’s plan was successful. John is dead."

Irene was about to burst out in happy laughter, when she realized that John's death would not be an advantage for her. Sherlock would be seeking revenge and she was in his hands.

"I can testify against James Moriarty and denounce his plot against Hastur and Alton to take control of the Comyn Council," she proposed quickly.

Sherlock let out a mocking laugh. "Is that all you can offer to save your life?” he asked. “James Moriarty is also dead, dragged into the falls with John. If you don’t believe me, I can let you see the body of your partner."

For the first time since Sherlock had entered the cell, Irene was afraid.

Sherlock prodded her, sarcastically.

"Are you scared, dear wife? Have you finally realized that only you remain? Moriarty killed John and had the bad taste to die, taking from me any chance I had to take out my revenge on him. Can you prove that James was in cahoots with someone else in his family or were you his only accomplice?"

Irene backed away. "I am pregnant with your son," she said, trying to sound confident.

Sherlock snorted. "You will not be pregnant forever, Irene. And don’t think I'll let the child influence me. When he is born, there will be nothing left to protect you."

That said, Sherlock left the room.

Irene dropped to her knees. She was completely at the complete mercy of a man that no one could control.

\-------------------------------------------- 

 Sherlock went to his room.

There were no lights, apart from the fire crackling in the fireplace.

Wherever he looked he saw John’s smile.

A blind fury seized him: "Why did you leave me?” he yelled at his surroundings. “Why didn’t you wait until I found a solution? You know that I would have! Did you know that I would have done _anything_ to save you?! Did you want to punish me because I never stopped loving you? They would have had to rip my beating heart from my body to make me stop! The heart that you alone have ever owned!"

The objects in the room began to fly from all sides. Sherlock turned and slammed into the ground everything in his path.

Turning to the bed, he saw an image of John, wearing the look of disapproval he reserved for whenever Sherlock did something wrong.

He knew that look as well as the one he showed when he was surprised or amazed at something Sherlock had done.

Sherlock remembered and kept in his prodigious mind every glance, every smile and every word that John had given him from when they first met as children inthe OverWorld.

And each of those memories was now a blow to the heart, because he knew that there would be no more.

 -------------------------------------------- 

The next morning, Castle Armida awoke to a thick blanket of snow.

Lestrade was looking with concern to the only viable path connecting Armida to Thendara, when he heard light footsteps approach him. He turned and bowed deeply to Lady Anthea.

"I sent scouts to check the path,” he said in a strained voice. “ I'm afraid they will not bring good news."

Anthea also began to scan the horizon. "What happened to  Moriarty’s corpse?"

"I did embalming,” Lestrade said. “I will try to convince Lord Sherlock to deliver him to his family for a proper burial."

Anthea pursed her lips into a thin line. "I don’t know if you will be able to convince Sherlock. If only you had recovered the body of John ... "

"I know." Lestrade agreed.

An eerie silence enveloped the castle, isolated from the rest of the planet by the thick barrier of snow.

\-------------------------------------------- 

 At Thendara, Rafael and Mycroft Holmes were arguing over who should make the trip back to Armida.

"Father” Mycroft was saying, “You must stay in Thendara. The Aldaran could try some other sleight of hand and they must be stopped. We must prevent Regis Hastur from appointing Ranald Moriarty as his heir."

"By now you are the representative of Alton in Council,” said Rafael. “It will be difficult to reason with your brother. As his father, I have more influence than you over him. Moreover, you have never been particularly able to agree. I'm not sure that you be able to reason with him."

There was a slight knock.

"Come in," said Rafael.

An  Alton guard showed two men into the room.

"The mountain is impractical, Lord Alton,” one said bowing . “The blizzard caused a huge avalanche to block the road and we cannot pass. The snow has also blocked the road for Neskaya. There is no way to reach Armida. "

Both Holmes men cursed. If there was no way to return to Armida, the castle was at the mercy of a man enraged by grief.

\-------------------------------------------- 

There were days when Sherlock did not leave his room.

Even when he was a hawk from Thendara bearing a message from Rafael ordering him not to do anything without having his prior consent, Sherlock did not react.

He was not angry with Anthea, because he had predicted that his sister-in-law would make such a move and he did not care that she did.

Anthea made the servents take him meals to be had in his room, but they came back almost intact. So in despiration she called on Lestrad.

"I can’t get him out and eats very little."

"You know that Lord Sherlock has always eaten little, so don’t worry over that. Do you know if he has slept at all?"

"I don’t know. He doesn’t answer any of my questions."

"I can try, if you like."

Anthea mused a bit.

"He won’t let himself die, because he has yet to carry out his revenge. Let's give him a little time. Perhaps he will aee reason and we are worrying about nothing. "

"I hope so," Lestrade sighed.

 -------------------------------------------- 

Sherlock was sitting in the chair by the fireplace, with his hands clasped under his chin.

He stared at the fire, which reflected in his ice-coloured eyes, giving the impression that flames were moving behind the irises.

He could not sleep.

He didn’t want to goto the OverWorld.

He imagined that the spirit of John was waiting to say goodbye to him and he was not ready to do so.

Being isolated at Armida infuriated him even more. If he could, he would have marched on Aldaran and razed it to the ground.

But first, he wanted to know who was really behind the attack on his life.

Irene and Mary only knew of James Moriarty’s involvment, but he was already dead and could not initiate another one.

Sherlock, however, did not believe that James was the mastermind behind it all. He was certain James was just the tool of the real mastermind to bring House Aldaran to head the Council.

In early spring he would go to Thendara and would discover everything.

He cared nothing for the consequences his actions could have on the delicate balance maintained between the Comyn families. He did not even care if they unleashed war.

In his future he saw only revenge.

He just had to be patient.

He had all winter to strategise, providing each scenario.

And when he hit, there would be no mercy for anyone.

\-------------------------------------------- 

Nearly a month had passed since the death of John.

Sherlock was asleep in bed and found himself in the OverWorld.

He was watching a group of spirits that seemed to belong to the dead, when he was called by a familiar voice:

"Sherlock,” said John. “It's all right. I'm here. For you."

Sherlock turned and looked at him. He did not look like the other spirits. John’s image appeared no different from when he was alive.

The smile that he turned on him was warm and sweet, even though his eyes were sad and melancholy, even while keeping that spark of life that illuminated them every time he looked at him.

Sherlock knew he should stay away. In the OverWorld, the spirits of the dead could attach themselves to the living and drag them away toward the well.

However, this was John.

How could he stay away from him, when he smiled at him like that?

How he could drive him away, when he opened his arms, inviting and welcoming?

Sherlock walked toward John and hugged him with all his spirit strength.

He did not care if the next day found him in a coma.

He did not care if he lived the rest of his life as a vegetable.

It did not matter if he died at that moment. Without John, real life was meaningless and empty.

He did not matter even more his desire for revenge.

He was with John.

He was hugging him, shaking him.

He cursed the astral body that did not allow him to feel his warmth, which did not allow him to caress his skin.

"Sherlock, it’s all right, it's all right." said the soul of John.

And Sherlock began to kiss him, as if to absorb him to himself, not to lose him again.

John did not dissolve or try to drag him away, but answered his kisses.

Their astral bodies joined more and more in an embrace that was notphysical, but was equally sensual.

Sherlock could not believe that this was the spirit of a dead person, because he felt the pleasure that his kisses and his caresses conveyed to John. He felt that there was even a slight re-establishment of the profound psychic bond John had cut before falling into cascade with James.

He decided that he did not want to think or understand, and he drifted from the passion and desire.

When he reached the pinnacle of pleasure, Sherlock shouted John’s name, and awoke in his room at Armida.

 ----------------- 

It took him a few seconds to realize that he was awake.

It was still night. The wind whistled outside the windows.

The fire in the fireplace was the only source of light in the room and even that was waning.

Sherlock realized that his body had responded physically as if he had really made love to John.

Once wide awake and conscious, he concluded that he had not been in the OverWorld, only dreamed of being there and finding John. There could be no other explanation. If that was really John’s spirit, he would never be able to go back.

Angrily, he punched his pillow several times.

Throwing away the blankets, he wiped himself down before putting on his purple robe and moving to sit in the chair by the fireplace. He watched the dance of the dying flames which could not keep out the cold that he felt within himself since John’s death.

He could not admit to himself that his mind had played such a cruel joke on him. How could it allow him to  dream of making love with John?

He would have preferred a thousand times more to become lost in the OverWorld and follow his spirit into the beyond, with no turning back.

He remembered the sad eyes watching him in the dream. His mind had taken that from him too: why couldn’t it let him see John happy?

And he had been about to give up his revenge, only to be engulfed by feelings!

This never would have happened. He would never let anything or anyone take his revenge against Aldaran from him.

John had always been his heart and now it had been torn out from him.

Moriarty’s  prophecy was fulfilled.

John had left him and Sherlock would never let anyone else into his heart. These feelings were an obstacle, a useless, harmful weight that had to be erased forever, because he did not need them to get what he wanted. All he requuired were his mind and his _laran_.

And he would use his own mind and his own power to destroy all those who had torn out his heart.

\-------------------------------------------- 


	13. Frozen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spring is here.  
> Sherlock is ready to take revenge on those who killed John.  
> Someone able to stop him?

**[Chapter ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3906340/chapters/8742100)13 ** **:  Frozen**

A few days had passed since Sherlock had dreamed of John.

On a rare sunny day, Sherlock was walking in the battlements and saw a group of riders in the distance.

It was, probably a group of _leronis_ taking advantage of the break in the bad weather to move from Nevarsin to Neskaya.

He wondered what urgent commitments could make it necessary to run the risk of being swept away by an avalanche.

Even _he_ had decided not to attempt to reach Thendara before the thaw, convincing his father and brother to remain in the capital by assuring them that he would do nothing without informing them.

He knew it hadn’t been his assurances that had allayed his family’s anxiety, but the fact that Anthea would immediately inform them of any strange move on his part – though Sherlock wasn’t angry, having already decided to wait until spring before making his move.

One of the riders had stopped and  appeared to be viewing the castle.

Sherlock was wondering who it could be, when Lestrade called to him with some urgency:

"Lord Sherlock! Mary’s in labour!"

Sherlock turned to the commander of the guards, worried, "Isn’t it too early? The child shouldn’t be born for another month!"

He rapidly descended from the battlements, heading towards the tower in which Irene and Mary were held prisoner.

Once there, he could see the bustle in the cell, and Anthea holding Mary’s hand in support.

Seeing Sherlock at the door, she walked away towards her brother-in-law.

"She’s well into the labour,” she whispered to him. “This baby wants to be born now, but there’s a significant chance that he will not survive. And it could take Mary along with him."

Sherlock looked at the mother, but Anthea could not deduce his thoughts or feelings on the matter.

His voice was low and deep, but the tone was indifferent and cold: "I do not care whether Mary lives or dies, but John’s son _must_ survive!" He spun on his heel, bound for his rooms.

Fate would not deprive him of this last bond to John.

 ------------------------- 

The hours slowly passed, until he finally heard a soft knock at the door.

"Come in."

Anthea entered, a small bundle in her arms. "It's a boy,” she formally announced. “He is perfectly fine."

Sherlock rose from his chair and, walking over to his sister-in-law, took the barely moving little bundle from her arms. Moving the blanket, Sherlock discovered a small wrinkled creature with a tuft of blondish hair, peacefully sleeping.

Though the child was tiny, he recognisably had John’s nose and mouth.

Sherlock was certain that when the baby opened his eyes, he would recognized his lost love in them.

He smiled at the little being: "Welcome to the world John Watson."

Anthea was looking at her brother in law with a mixture of tenderness and anger; "Won’t you ask about the mother?" she asked coldly.

"I don’t care anything about that woman’s fate,” Holmes said without taking his eyes from the newborn. “Especially if you're asking me to leave the child with her. Never! That woman will not touch him for any reason."

"You don’t need to worry about that,”  Anthea said angrily. “Mary died in childbirth. This child has lost both his parents."

Sherlock didn’t look up from the newborn; "He lost both when John fell into the waterfall,” he said, indifferent to the wrath of sister-in-law. “Now, I'm sorry, but I think it's best I take him to the nurse."

And he left the room, leaving Anthea alone.

 -------------------- 

Anthea didn’t give up.

When Sherlock returned to his rooms he found her still there, waiting for him.

"What do you want Anthea?" he asked with cold impatience.

"I want a funeral for Mary,” said Anthea decidedly.

Fury flashed like lightening across Sherlock’s ice-coloured eyes, but that didn’t intimidated Anthea, who didn’t look away. "I want to bury her in the Castle cemetery ..."

"NO!” Sherlock screamed angrily. “That woman doesn’t deserve a proper burial when John could not have one! Not in this castle. She should be given to the dogs and crows."

"You _cannot_ deny her a burial, isn’t human!"

Sherlock approached her threateningly and hissed: "That woman you are so strongly defending was responsible for John’s death - the father of her child! And you want to pay tribute to her? "

Anthea held the gaze of her brother in law.

"Mary loved John. She betrayed Irene and Moriarty to save him. For almost nine months she carried John’s son in her womb, that same child that you have decided to bring up yourself! The day when he asks you where his parents are buried, what will you say? You have fed his mother’s body to the animals just  because you were jealous that she had loved his father as much as you?"

"You ... how **_dare_** you ..." cold eyes glittered furiously, his voice was low and angry.

Anthea feared she had crossed the line, but didn’t allow him to see her intimidated.

She continued to stare at him in the eye, daring him to strike her.

Sherlock spun away from her toward the fireplace to hold back his anger.

"If you really wish to bury her, do it outside the boundaries of Armida. I don’t want the body of that woman infecting the air I breathe."

Anthea released the breath she was holding. Breathing deeply she said, "Thank you, Sherlock. We will bury her outside the walls. May I ask Lestrade for his assistance?"

Sherlock didn’t even turn. "Get help from whomever you want, as long as she is removed soon."

Anthea nodded her head and left.

Sherlock continued to stare at the flames.

He could not bear the idea that Mary was buried while John’s body was nowhere to be found.

Like Moriarty, even Mary had been removed from his vengeance. Only Irene was left.

There had to be _some_ other Aldarans involved in the plot. And when he had found out who they were, he would make them pay!

\-------------------------

Anthea found Lestrade in the yard where he was instructing his men. "Sherlock said that we can bury Mary - outside the walls of Armida."

Lestrade looked at her with admiration, "You had a lot of courage to face down Lord Sherlock."

Anthea didn’t reply, simply asking, "Any idea where we could bury her?"

"What about the lake on the west side?” Greg proposed. “There is a large tree on the bank which is filled with beautiful pink flowers in spring and summer. I didn’t know Mary well, but I think she would have liked to rest in the shade of those pink blossoms."

Anthea thought for a moment. "It seems like a good place,” she replied. “Find someone who can help us with the internment. Make sure to explain that Sherlock will not hold anyone to blame for assisting us."

Lestrade looked up at Sherlock’s windows. "How is he doing?" he asked.

Anthea sighed. "I hope this Winter passes swiftly,” she said. “Maybe once he’s had his revenge, Sherlock can find some peace."

 ------------------------------ 

The following month Irene’s and Sherlock’s daughter was born.

The little girl with brown hair and white skin rested with little John in the nursery, far away from her mother.

Although premature, little John was growing well, and in his blue eyes Sherlock once again beheld his John.

The birth of the two children had brought a little joy to the fortress, but spring was rapidly approaching.

With growing impatience, Sherlock sent knights to ensure that the road to Thendara was cleared.

The four moons of Darkover were beginning to appear together in the night sky. Soon all of them would be completely visible at the one time, and then the Comyn Council would be convened.

Soon he would have his revenge.

 ------------------------------- 

Spring has come at last and the pass was sufficiently clear to allow the passage of horses.

Sherlock set off with a troop of men commanded by Greg Lestrade, escorting Irene and Moriarty’s corpse to be handed over to his family.

The small group arrived at Thendara by night, entering Comyn Castle when all had gone to bed.

Rafael and Mycroft were waiting for them, alerted to their arrival by an Alton guard sent on ahead.

Sherlock greeted his father and brother coldly, aware that they would try to stop him from carrying out his plan.

He helped Irene dismount, grabbing her by the waist, then delivered her to Lestrade to be escorted under guard to the Alton rooms. He remained in the yard to talk with his father and brother.

"Tomorrow I will also attend the Council meeting. It is my right, is it not? "

Rafael stared intently at his younger son.  "What do you intend to do Sherlock? We can’t start a war against Aldaran over the life of a Squire!"

Sherlock stared at his father with narrowed gray eyes, "He was _John_ , not a squire."

"What would you do?” asked Mycroft.

"Force Aldaran to confess to the attack," Sherlock responded.

Rafael shook his head.

"In the Conference room there are _Laran_ dampeners,” he said. “You can’t use your power to force them to reveal their plans. I can assure you that neither Merrill nor Ranald Aldaran will confess of their own free will. If they did, they would lose the right to succeed Regis Hastur. They will never place their chance to become the Regent and to deliver the planet to Terrani at risk! Because that's what they want to do, but no one has the evidence to convict them!"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "So, we just allow them to do this?"

Mycroft sighed, "If we could, we would stop them; but we can’t do anything without evidence. Even if we revealed what we suspect, they would just deny it – their word against ours."

"Make sure that the dampers are off tomorrow. I will use my power on them."

Rafael snorted:

"For Aldones’ sake! Do you think it's as simple as that?! _No one_ can turn off the dampeners! They were placed in the Conference room to _prevent_ members from using their _Laran_ during meetings!"

"Someone must be able to turn it off!" Insisted Sherlock.

Mycroft glanced to his father: "Maybe if you asked to Regis. He wants a Moriarty as his heir even less than we do!"

Sherlock ignored his father’s response as his attention was drawn to the shadow cast by the tower before them. Someone was watching them!

Without warning, he began to run toward the tower.

He noticed the hem of a coat, but when he reached the wall, there was no-one.

His father and brother joined him.

"What is it?" Rafael asked.

"Someone was watching us,” Sherlock replied. “I wonder who it was, and if he heard overheard our conversation."

The three Holmes men looked around warily and decided it was better to continue their discussion in their apartment.

 -------------------------------- 

They entered the living room to join Eileen, who embraced her younger son tightly.

"How are you Sherlock? How are the children?"

Sherlock quickly broke free from his mother’s embrace. "I'm fine, Mum. Anthea has assured me that the children are growing well."

Eileen put her hand on her younger son’s arm, watching him with sadness: "You know that John's parents have asked to raise his son. And we really can’t refuse - we have already taken John from them, we can’t deprive them also of his only child!"

Sherlock turned to her mother: " John’s son will grow up at Armida and _I_ will raise him! I'll convince his grandparents to let me."

Eileen was about to reply, but seeing the look of her husband sent in her direction made it clear that this was not the time to insist.

"It’s fine, dear,” she said giving him a kiss on the cheek. “We can speak on that later. Now you’re here, I shall go to bed and leave you men to your plots."

Left alone, the three Holmes resumed their discussion.

"So?” Sherlock asked, “Those dampeners?"

"We’ll report on your ambush,” said Rafael, “Let's see how Hastur and Aldaran react to your story tomorrow. If we are correct that Regis will be on our side, we can ask him to turn off the dampeners the following day so you can rip the confession out of Aldaran."

Sherlock snorted; "So only we only delay even more!"

"It's just one more day,” Mycroft intervened patiently, “John died almost a year ago!"

Sherlock glared furiously at his brother, but he knew that he would get no more concessions, so he stalked towards the fireplace, sinking  into one of the chairs, effectively ending the discussion.

 ---------------------------------

 At dawn the next morning, Rafael handed the body of James Moriarty over to his father, Merryl Moriarty Aldaran, so the family could proceed with his burial.

Sherlock had avoided making any comment, but neither Rafael and Mycroft needed him to speak to know what he thought about returning James’ body to his family.

After breakfast, the Holmes men headed to the Council chambers, taking Irene with them.

The Council room was circular and each family had its own stage, open at the front to allow access to the center of the room, where they held special ceremonies.

The Alton stage was in front of that of the Hastur’s.

By the time the Holmes’ made their entrance, the hall was already crowded, the only empty stage was that of the Hastur.

To Alton’s right was the Aldaran stage, which was abuzz with activity. It appeared that Merryl was attempting to prevent his son from leaving, and given the looks Ranald Moriarty was throwing at Sherlock, he had to be the object of the Aldaran scion’s wrath.

Sherlock glared icily at the Aldaran scion.

There was an annoying humming noise in the background not caused by many voices talking simultaneously.

"What’s causing the buzzing?" Sherlock asked.

"The _Laran_ dampeners,” said Rafael. “We told you they would be in operation."

Sherlock gave a grimace of disgust.

Finally, without much in the way of fanfare, the Hasturs made their entrance to the hall, and the shouting and tumult subsided.

Sherlock studied the men who had entered the chamber. Although it was obvious to him that they were significantly older than his father, both Regis and Caryl Hastur appeared significantly younger, neither giving any indication of being infirm or unwell, and both exhibiting all the signs of a lively intelligence.

The two Hastur were not unaccompanied, however. The appearance of Beltran Hastur surprised the other participants, as the youngest of the three brothers rarely participated in the Comyn Council.

However, what attracted Sherlock’s attention was the presence of a fourth person on the Hastur stage.

Nothing could be seen of the man, as the hood of his cloak was pulled over his head to obscure his face, but Holmes was certain it was the same shadowy figure he had chased but lost sight of the night before.

There was something strangely familiar about his manner that caused a shiver to run down Sherlock’s spine.

He was certain the man in the cloak was watching them, but the presence of the dampener did not allow him to use his gift to evaluate him.

"Are you sure the Hastur aren’t ailgned with the Aldaran?" he asked speaking softly.

Mycroft made a sort of strangled laugh. "You're joking, right?” he asked shocked. “The Hastur believe that Aldaran killed the previous heir, Danvar, even though they lack the proof! For years they’ve procrastinated over the appointment of Ranald as Regis’s heir, and you imagine that they’d team up with Aldaran! If we give them a solid reason they will willingly side with us. Why do you have doubts?"

Sherlock could not take his eyes off the man with the hood.

"The fourth man in their box. Why does he hide his face? I’m sure he was the one spying on us last night."

Rafael and Mycroft cast their eyes towards the Hastur stage

"He could be one of their guards,” Rafael suggested. “It is possible he was positioned where he was last night to report on your arrival. Probably they expect trouble and they’ve brought along someone for extra protection in case they need it."

Sherlock remained  unconvinced by his father’s response, but said no more.

The cloaked man moved to sit behind the Hastur brothers as Regis rose to his feet and waved for silence.

The buzz subsided completely: the hour of revenge was approaching.

 Regis Hastur began to speak in a firm voice and stentorian:

"Welcome, members of the Comyn Council. There are many issues on the agenda and to start ... "

"Here!" interrupted Ranald Moriarty.

Regis raised his eyebrows to show his disapproval of the interruption, but did not comment.

Moriarty continued: "I accuse the Altons of murder! They murdered my brother James in cold blood and desecrated his body!"

Regis nodded, for Ranald to be silent. Merryl put a hand on his son's arm to make him understand that it was better to obey.

"Lord Alton,”Regis said, turning his head towards the Holmes stage, “The allegations from the Aldaran family are very serious. How do you respond?"

Rafael stood up and spoke quietly. "My Lord Hastur, it was actually James Moriarty who with the complicity of tthe Terrans, attempted to waylay and murder my son Sherlock! In the conflict, he was killed along with my son’s Squire, John Watson ... "

Rafael was unable to say more because Ranald interrupted him. "That Laranless bastard killed my brother! If he were not already dead he should have been sentenced to death for causing the death of a Comyn!"

Sherlock was able to control his anger, but Regis responded with harsh tone: "It is certainly not to you, Ranald, to sentence anyone to death – Comyn or not! If, as it seems, he attacked your brother, it was as a squire who was defending his master,! In that he has done nothing but his duty!"

Merryl and Ranald were livid with rage. "Who is it that says that my son attacked this Sherlock?"

"I say so," said Sherlock.

Ranald looked at him in fury. "We all know how ‘strange’ Rafael Holmes’s youngest son is. He also has the full Alton power, so he could definitely have used his gift to force my brother to attack him."

Sherlock did not react: "Apart from the fact that it’s clear that you're lying and you knew of the attack, we have a witness to the conspiracy hatched by James Moriarty against me."

Regis intervened in the discussion. “Who is this witness?" he asked in a firm tone.

Sherlock assisted his wife as she stood to face the assembly, “Irene Camilla Adler Ridenow."

Ranald Moriarty laughed sarcastically.

"The main witness of the prosecution is the wife of the youngest Alton? And you expect us to believe her her? Who's to say that he is not forcing her, using his power to make her lie? Or that she is not lying just to please her husband?"

Rafael and Mycroft exchanged a puzzled look. They could no longer hear the background hum of the Laran dampers.

Sherlock also realized this and took the opportunity to use his Voice Command. "I order to Aldaran to tell the truth about the conspiracy against the Alton."

Both Moriartys felt the intrusion in their minds of a dominant command, forcing them to confess.

"I was the one who instructed James to eliminate Sherlock,” Ranald admitted. “My brother and the youngest Alton met during their training period at Neskaya Tower and hated each other from the start, so it seemed only right that James should free us of Sherlock.”

In front of the spellbound Council, he continued:  “The plan was to marry Irene Adler to the young Holmes. Once she was pregnant, she was to inform James of when Sherlock left Armida, so he could waylay him. My father and I, while here in Thendara, would ensure the death of Rafael and Mycroft Holmes in an ‘unfortunate’ accident. By removing the Alton threat and after my appointment as Hastur heir, I would have the control of the Council and I could deliver control of the planet to the Terrani."

Amidst the upsurge of noise, Sherlock projected his voice and power again. "What do you get in return for giving the planet over to the Terrani?"

"The Terrani want to exploit the planet's resources,” said Moriarty. “We would have been their main partners and from this we would derive enormous wealth and power!"

"What resources do they want to exploit?” asked Regis. “We have nothing that might interest them."

Moriarty resisted the urge to answer, but Sherlock intervened ordering: "Answer!"

Reluctantly, Merryl answered; "They want the arrays. They are trying to track down the large matrices used during the Ages of Chaos, to turn them into weapons to use against their enemies. And they are looking for telepaths to help them to use them."

The assembly of Comyn, which had watched in relative silence and awe to the clash between the Alton and Aldaran,  now reacted with strong anger and revulsion.

Regis struggled to bring the silence to the room.

 **"Silence”!** he shouted at the members of the Assembly. “I understand your anger, but in order to defend ourselves from Terrani we must know how things stand! Let the Aldarans finish their confession!"

Once silence was finally achieved, Regis prompted Merryl to continue his testimony.  "Who are the Terrani with whom you are in contact?"

"Our contact is the delegate Thomas Sheldon."

"Then tomorrow we will convene with Delegate Sheldon to confront him with the charges that have been leveled,” said Regis. “Meanwhile, we thank Sherlock Holmes Alton for having unmasked the intentions of the Aldaran."

Sherlock turned to Regis with an impassive expression on his face.

"Your gratitude is not enough, Lord Hastur,” he said in a detached tone. “These men have killed my best friend and lover. In addition, John Watson was a Comyn! Ask your brother Beltran - he also knows who Johns parents were! Anyway, Comyn or not Comyn, I want **justice** for John’s death!"

"What price do you want for the loss of your Squire?" Regis asked politely.

Sherlock turned his gaze toward the Aldarans ready to use his Voice Command to force them to kill each other, in the most excruciating way possible, when a voice he knew very well said:

"Don’t do it Sherlock! You can stop now. It will be up to the Council to punish them. Don’t stain your hands with their blood. It’s not needed!"

Sherlock turned in disbelief towards the Hastur stage; the fourth man had removed his hood revealing his blond hair, blue eyes and the light beard and mustache covering his chin, cheeks and upper lip.

He was smiling sweetly and Sherlock watched him, stunned, not believing his own eyes.

Beltran grabbed the blond man’s arm, drawing him from the stage as he drew the hood over his face once more.

Regis had observed the scene impassively.

"I think we can resume this conversation tomorrow,” he said in a calm voice.  “I order the City Guards to arrest the Aldaran and Irene Adler. Take them to the cells to wait on the judgement of the Comyn Council for their crimes. This sitting is closed and the we shall assemble tomorrow to continue with these proceedings."

The assembly erupted in a flurry of comments aloud.

Sherlock finally roused from his amazement.

He had glimpsed him for just a few seconds, but he was certain he was not mistaken. The fourth man on the Hastur stage was John!

\-------------------------------------------------------

 


	14. Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John was saved and found an old acquaintance.

**[Chapter ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3906340/chapters/8742100)14 ** **:  Memory**

_The previous autumn:  Reichenbach Falls ..._

He was flying. Transported by air currents, like a bird with outstretched wings.

John could hear nothing apart from Sherlock’s cries of anguish until he impacted with a hard surface.

And the world went black.

 --------------------------------------- 

He was tossed and thrown, but didn’t know where.

He felt hands grab him roughly, gently.

Thoughts and words of people he couldn’t recognise came into his mind, but he could not make them out or understand what he heard: his body refused to respond to his orders.

  --------------------------------------- 

He had no sense of time passing.

Every so often he felt the presence of someone familiar - someone desperate that reminded him so much of Sherlock, but was not Sherlock.

 --------------------------------------- 

The first day he was able to open his eyes, John found himself looking at an elderly woman. Her gray hair was pulled back in an orderly bun while her clothes were simple and clean, made of a heavy material.

He had to be somewhere near the Hellers.

Home.

He felt so tired. So he slept. 

\-------------------------------------- 

The second time he opened his eyes, he felt more focused.

The room was dark, the wind raged outside the window and the flames in the fireplace moved in the rhythm of a dance.

He became aware of a man’s presence even before seeing him.

He felt anger and the desire for revenge. He felt his pain and despair as if it emanated from himself.

John was overwhelmed by anguish that led him to remember the afternoon at Neskaya when James and his three friends had tried to rape him to get revenge on Sherlock.

The man in the room was Sebastian Dyan Moran Ardais, and John had no strength to fight him.

He fell again into a world of dark unconsciousness.

\---------------------------------------  

 The third time he regained consciousness he felt much better.

He had pain in every part of the body, but he was hungry and that was a good sign.

He _felt_ Moran’s presence even before he fully regained his senses.

Sebastian was standing in front of the fireplace, his back to John.

"You're finally back among us, little John,” his voice was warm and deep. “Here they all say you must have very powerful protectors! We found you in the river more dead than alive, yet here you are: - alive - if not particularly at your peak ability. However, you are much more alive than James!"

When Moran said the name of Moriarty, John felt all the pain of the loss rolling from him.

"The rumor is that you launched yourself into the Reichenbach Falls, taking James with you."

The memories returned like lightning into John’s mind: of James tearing and throwing away his matrix; of pushing himself into the waterfall with his last remaining strength, pulling James along with him; of doing so to protect and save Sherlock.

Sebastian, having received those images in his mind, turned to John frowning, green eyes studying him in amazement: "You had a matrix?” he asked. “James tore it from you and yet you're still alive? How is it possible? Who are you?"

John replied in a voice hoarse from long disuse: "John Watson. No-one special."

Sebastian grinned. “Allow me to disagree, little John. Sherlock will pay your weight in gold, to get you back whole - or _mostly_ whole!"

With this threat, Sebastian went left him to his memories.

 ---------------------------------------  

In the days that followed, Sebastian was notable by his absence.

From the old woman, John discovered that he had been unconscious for nearly three weeks, was in a village of outcasts and outlaws  of whom Sebastian had been leader for about two years.

There were no guards at the door or outside the house. After all, John was so weak it wasn’t as if he could go anywhere.

He wondered how Sherlock was, if he even knew that he was alive.

\---------------------------------------  

Another week passed. John was feeling stronger with every passing day.

The thing that made him really annoyed was being able to so vividly perceive the feelings and thoughts of the people around him - almost to the point of physical pain.

Sebastian showed up again one morning, fresh and serene. "I’m glad to see you’re better,” he began. “I will enjoy it more this way."

John could feel his pain and anger.

"What do you want from me?” he asked. “Why did you save me if you were aware that I caused James’s death?"

Sebastian looked away, moving to the window to contemplate the beautiful wether outside.

After some time, he replied in a low voice: "From what I know, James was guilty. The Aldaran had an agreement with the Terrani. If they helped eliminate the Hastur and other Comyn opposed to the occupation of the planet, they would become the dominant family of Darkover.”

He sighed to himself.  “I have always been opposed to this. I think the Terrani will destroy us if we fail to oppose their thirst for power. I could never manage to make James understand that the power they promise is fatuous and inconsistent. With him there were no half measures: either you were with him, or you were against him.”

“So I left ... But I still knew their plans!” He gave a strange, bitter laugh; “Do you think these bandits just _happened_ to show up and give me security from the Aldaran? I too fell to committing low deeds in order to survive, alright?"

"What will you do with me?"  John asked again.

Sebastian turned to face him. "I don’t know. I haven’t said anything to Sherlock because I want him to suffer. You know he has never been particularly sympathetic, and I knew your death would make him ruthless and indifferent to everything and everybody."

John felt a pain close to his heart. Since his return to consciousness he had been unable to visit the Overworld or to contact Sherlock telepathically to let him know he was still alive.

"I could sell you as a slave in the Dry Towns. No one would know anything about you there."

John tried to control his heartbeat, which had accelerated significantly at Moran’s words.

"Or, you could take me to Nevarsin and ask for a reward," he replied, making an attempt to influence Moran’s decision.

The two men stared each other in the eye for a long time.

"Why should I?" Sebastian finally asked.

"Because you don’t want Darkover to fall into the hands of Terrani. And neither do I!"

Moran narrowed his eyes:  “And what makes you so important in all of this?"

John weighed the words carefully.

"I’m not, but Sherlock is. If, as you say, Sherlock has become ruthless and indifferent to everything, he will never use his _Laran_ to help the Comyn maintain control of the planet. However, if  I returned to Armida, I could persuade him to do the right thing. You left James because he wanted to hand over the planet to the Terrani. Do you want your sacrifice to have been in vain? For what, petty revenge? Will that bring James back, or restore the time you've lost with him? Do you really feel so guilty for leaving him that you would allow the destruction of Darkover, just to atone for what you think was your sin?"

Sebastian said nothing, just turned on his heel and walked out.

\---------------------------------------  

Two days past without Moran showing up.

John could wait no longer. The winter had begun and soon the streets would be impassable.

One morning, after the woman who looked after him was gone, John dressed carefully and left the house. He slipped into the stables, paying attention to everything around him to avoid being intercepted. Saddling one of the horses, he led him out by the bridle.

He paused at the door and to try to determine the safest way to go. If he were lost in the woods surrounding the bandits’ hideout or went in the wrong direction he could die.

He was so focused on his decision that he missed the arrival of two of Moran’s men.

They understood immediately what he was trying to do and attacked. John tried to resist, but he could nothing as the two shouted loudly to attract their other companions, dragging him to Sebastian.

Moran, hearing all that noise, opened the door to see two of his men holding John by the arms.

"He was trying to run away, boss." said one.

Sebastian was furious: "Bring him in," he hissed.

The men dragged John inside Moran’s appartment and threw him to the ground.

"Go away and close the door,” he ordered and the two men obeyed.

John scrambled to his feet.

"You'll have to keep me tied up,” he said defiantly, “Because I will try again. And if you take me to the Dry Towns, I will use every opportunity to try to escape. Just because you have decided that you care nothing for the future of Darkover doesn’t mean that I should!"

Sebastian stood in front of him: "What did you say?"

"You're a coward,” John replied calmly. “You ran away from James because you understood his plan would bring the planet to ruin, but you did nothing to stop him. Now that he's dead, you continue to do nothing! I've been here for weeks and you still haven’t decided what to do with me. In fact, you don’t really want to get back at Sherlock or me because you know we only reacted to Moriarty’s attack and you know he was in the wrong! But letting me go would mean betraying James’s memory and you can’t do that. So you just wait!"

Sebastian snorted sarcastically: "So what should I do with you, then?"

"What _would_ you do with me?" John asked, staring directly into his eyes.

Sebastian grabbed him by the neck with one hand, while the other squeezed him tightly around the ribs, forcing John against his body.

He began to kiss him on the mouth furiously, biting his lips, forcing his tongue in voracious exploration of the other’s, squeezing hard enough to almost force the breath from John’s lungs.

John didn’t put up any resistance, even though every touch felt like a stab to his heart.

Sebastian moved from his mouth to the neck, covering him with kisses and bites until, almost out of breath, he stopped and leaned his forehead against John’s, panting.

He didn’t remain long in that position. He pulled away just far enough from John to observe his reaction. His lips were swollen, in some places broken and bleeding, while his neck had bites that would take days to heal.

It was the eyes, however, that drew him – those deep blue eyes showed no fear or panic, only compassion.

Sebastian turned away from him abruptly. "If I wanted to go all the way, would you just let me do it?"

John stared at him quietly, "Yes."

Moran screamed frustratedly. " _Why_ yes? Do you feel obligated? "

John's voice was very sweet: "Sebastian, I know what you're feeling. You feel lonely and desperate because of the death of the only person you've ever really loved. No matter how it ended, no matter what you thought of James’s mistakes - it doesn’t matter that he disowned you when he realized you didn’t share his plans and dreams! You loved him ... still love him, and you seek comfort, revenge and human contact. I represent a link to James, and it is as if, through me, you can recover a part of him again."

With an expression of utter contempt Sebastian hissed, "You’d let me do that to you because of pity or through some ‘god complex’ of your own?"

"No, not out of pity. I will allow you to have sex with me, and once you are done you'd have paid your ‘debt’ to James and finally be able to move on."

Sebastian stared at him for a long time, then shook his head with a grin on his face, “You're such a strange boy, little John. You should stop being so sincere. One day you may find yourself in a world of trouble, you know?"

"Why should I lie? You are a Comyn, you should be able to understand when I'm deceiving you too,” John said with an amused smile and a tilt of his head. “And then, do you think I've had a few troubles?"

The two men laughed.

Sebastian took a handkerchief, dipped it in the wine he had on the table and passed it over the cuts he had made on John’s lips. "Quiet, they will be healed by the time we get to Nevarsin."

John stared at him in surprise: "Nevarsin?"

Sebastian smiled, "It's where you wanted to go, isn’t it?"

"Yes,” murmured John. “How can I repay you in return for this?"

Sebastian raised his green eyes, sad and desperate, to John’s blue ones.

John had always controlled his _laran_ through the matrix. It allowed him to filter the feelings of others, keeping an appropriate ‘distance’.

Now without the Matrix, all Sebastian’s anguish, pain, despair and loneliness came upon him like a slap to the face, taking his breath away.

He _had_ to bring relief to the wounded heart and mitigate that suffering, even if briefly. The desire and need of love he felt from Sebastian became his own.

He smiled reassuringly at Sebastian and took his hand leading him to the bed, lying down upon it.

Sebastian asked no questions for fear that John would say something to prevent his future actions. His need to revive his lost love, if even for a few moments, was greater than the knowledge that John was not James and never would be.

He practically tore off John’s clothes leaving him naked, forcing him to roll onto his stomach. Straddling John, he thrust abruptly, penetrating him when he was not yet ready. John stiffened, but he managed to stifle the moan that was about to come out from the mouth.

He felt Sebastian’s anguish in his actions, the taller man penetrating him more and more quickly and deeply, moving inside him with sudden, fast movements.

John knew that Sebastian was not purposely trying to hurt him.

He knew that if he understood the pain he was causing, or if John had complained, Sebastian would have stopped, depressed and humiliated by what he was doing.

John said nothing.

Let Sebastian vent his pain and his remorse. For John it was quick, intense and painful, as it never had been with Sherlock.

For Sebastian it was cathartic and left him breathless. In his mind, he found himself in the stable of Neskaya, James had his hand between his legs, telling him to prove his love by taking John first. This time, Sherlock did not arrive in time to stop him and he had delighted his lover.

While he came inside John, he heard James’s voice and laughter in the sensual whisper in his ear: "You are my one true love. You're my life. I love you, Sebastian."

He pulled out of John and moved to lie next to him on the bed.

Neither spoke.

 ---------------------------------------  

John fell asleep immediately, exhausted by the events of the day.

Since his fall, he hadn’t been able to reach the OverWorld, but on this night he managed it easily. He immediately looked for Sherlock, feeling his presence, loud and clear.

John was drawn to Sherlock by the despair and loneliness felt coming from the younger Holmes, so similar to the emotions he had felt from Sebastian. Sherlock’s form floated clear and bright in the darkness of the OverWorld.

"Sherlock," he called.

The other boy turned and looked at him for a long time.

John came up to him and stroked his face: "It's okay Sherlock,” he murmured, “I'm here. For you."

Sherlock hugged him tightly, as if afraid he would vanish.

John felt Sherlock’s frustration that they were in non-corporeal form and could not physically touch, feel the other’s body heat or smell the other.

"Sherlock, it’s all right. It's all right," John told him.

Sherlock began to gently kiss him. John opened completely to him.

 --------------------------------------- 

Sebastian could not sleep. He was leaning on one elbow as he looked at John, contemplating his body – still red and scarred from his fall at Reichenbach. Most obvious, though, was the scar caused the Terrani weapon, visible on both his chest and back; an indelible mark of the cowardice of the man who had used it.

Sebastian reflected on the fact that he had taken John with the violent despair that had often characterised James’s actions with him, enjoying playing with him against his conscience in an effort to compromise his scruples.

And too often James had failed to allow him to do what he wanted.

He still could not believe that he had managed to say ‘enough’ when he realized the Aldarans plan to put the planet in the hands of Terrani.

Sebastian had escaped from that madness, but had done nothing to prevent James from trying to complete the  plan - because he knew that James would never change his mind.  

He hadn’t wanted to be responsible for the death of the man he loved, even though letting Jim that came at the cost of an entire planet.

James had always lived life to the extreme. He was intoxicatingly exciting, his personality  completely overwhelming.

And now Sebastian had taken the man who had killed his love with James’s typical ruthlessness. It would be so easy at the moment to end John Watson’s life – whom-so-ever he really was. He was here, now, defenseless in his hands.

He’d said he would take him to Nevarsin - but as an outlaw he could go back on his word without losing ‘honor’. He hadn’t had any of that for a very long time.

Sebastian stroked John’s back, running a finger along his spine as if considering just where to snap it!

John had not resisted what Sebastian had set out to do. He had actually encouraged him, leading him to the bed.

He remembered when John had hit James in the Neskaya refectory to prevent Sherlock from doing it, preventing a feud between Alton and Aldaran that nobody wanted.

He then thought back to when John had been assaulted in the stables - he had not pleaded, but he was bravely stoic, promising James that he would pay.

John was so different from James.

He had already asked himself what would his life had been like if, instead of knowing James, had known someone like John Watson.

Now he had him here, in his bed.

James was dead. He had to move on.  He had to make a new future for himself.

Was it possible for him to love someone so normal?

He leaned over John, kissing his back, hoping to wake him and make love with him.

John, his voice still sleepy, let out a moan of pleasure.

Encouraged, Sebastian turned him onto his back so that he could see his face, and positioned himself on top between the smaller man’s legs, continuing to kiss and caress him.

\------------------------------ 

John slowly became aware of what Sebastian was doing; but he was in the arms of Sherlock, who was kissing him tenderly and he fought desperately to not wake up, to stay with the man he loved.

Sebastian did not realize that John’s conscious mind was not present, because his body responded to his kisses and caresses.  So he applied lubricant calmly and penetrated John with a finger, moving with more delicacy than he had done before.

When he realized that John was no longer tense, he withdrew his finger and thrust in with two, still moving softly, realizing that proceeding in this way caused his excitement to build, as if his enjoyment depended on that of the blond boy.

 ---------------------------- 

John and Sherlock felt each other as if they were actually in physical contact.

Their astral bodies floated in space, ethereal and shining like stars in a cloudless sky. They blended deeper and deeper in an embrace that was purely of spirit and soul, but no less intense or overwhelming.

 --------------------------- 

John moaned with pleasure, and Sebastian thought he was finally ready for sex with him.

He withdrew his fingers and pinned John’s hands to the bed while he slowly entered him, allowing his body time to adjust.

As he moved gently inside him, he felt John’s cock grow hard against his stomach.

John replied to Sebastian’s thrusts, moving his pelvis rhythm.

Sebastian felt John’s body relax, warm, comfortable and inviting, and so he increased the tempo of his thrusts, probbing deeper and deeper, but yet with gentleness and delicacy, to prolong the feeling of deep satisfaction previously unknown to him.

When he came, it was with a cry of pleasure.

\-------------------------------- 

John could feel only Sherlock, and was completely unaware of what Sebastian was doing to his physical body. He was reactiing emotionally and physically only to what was happening in the OverWorld.

So when Sherlock and John reached orgasm together, they did so calling out each other’s names.

\-------------------------------- 

Sebastian, before withdrawing from John’s body, took the other’s cock with one hand and brought him to completion. As he came, John shouted Sherlock’s name before waking to find Sebastian above and within him.

Blue eyes wide, a look of panic crossed John’s face as he met the Sebastian hurt gaze.

With an aching heart he realised he had imagined Sherlock and the OverWorld, having replaced Sebastian in his head with the image of the man he truly loved, even while the former took him.

 Sebastian got up, dressed and headed for the door.

As he left he said: "Rest. The next few days will be a struggle. To reach Nevarsin in the middle of winter will require all your energy."

And he left.

John was left alone in the room, suddenly cold. He wrapped the blanket around himself, folding into a fetal position.

He had betrayed Sherlock.

He had betrayed their love.

He missed Sherlock terribly.

He must have sufferred a great deal, believing him to be dead.

He could not use his _Laran_ to communicate with him.

Yet, while making love with Sebastian, he had definitely felt Sherlock within.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

 


	15. True

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John continues his journey to be reunited in Thendara with Sherlock.

**[Chapter ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3906340/chapters/8742100)15 ** **:  True**

 

The following morning the sky was full of white, snow laden clouds.

The trip from the outlaw village to Nevarsin should only take a day, a day and a half at most, when  the weather was good. When it snowed, however, it could take days to reach the tower.

They left at dawn, John, Sebastian and two of Moran’s most trusted men.

Sebastian did not speak to John, only his men.

An icy wind hit them as they left the protection of the walled village. The forest was full of ghost trees, trunks bare and dark, seemingly unable to support life.

The first winter snow had fallen, so they had to be careful with where the horses placed their hooves, to avoid broken legs. The three outlaws talked happily with each other, telling yarns and dirty stories, completely ignoring John.

Watson, meanwhile, was pleased with the peace which allowed him to reflect on all that had happened. He could not understand what had motivated him to make love to Sebastian, if he could so call their first tryst.

The second ... the second was another matter entirely.

John felt, irrationally he was sure, that he had been with Sherlock at that time, not with Sebastian. He did regret, however, having hurt Moran by calling out Sherlock’s name.

He had read the disappointment in the other’s eyes which made him realize how deeply hurt Sebastian was by him thinking of another while they made love.

He was neither the first nor the only one John had deceived in this way.

He deeply felt Sherlock’s absence and was eager to embrace him, kiss him and be with him. But he didn’t feel the same for Mary, his wife and the mother of his unborn child.

And this made him uneasy.

He thought he was being unduly unfair and cruel to a woman who, after all, loved him deeply.

John felt a deep affection and respect for Mary, but it was not love.

When he returned to Armida, he would have to face this problem once and for all, and find a solution that also took the feelings of his wife into consideration.

\--------------------------------------- 

To beat the storm that was currently lashing the upper part of the Hellers and steadily approaching them, they had to maintain a hard, fast pace.

Fatigue began to take its toll and the three outlaws had less desire to talk, so the afternoon passed in silence.

Before the sun fell they took refuge in a cave where they could spend the night away from the animals who lived in the woods and the snow which had begun to fall lightly and sparsely through  the second half of the afternoon.

John was taking care of the horses, while the other two men prepared the fire and some hot food. Sebastian approached John, patting the horse he was currying.

"You are good with horses, little John,” he said in a warm voice. “You always have been. Even when we were in Neskaya, I could always recognized the horses that were taken care of by you because they were quieter and calmer - as if you passed on to them a sense of security and love."

John didn’t know what to say because the signals coming from Sebastian were mixed.

He just uttered a shy, "Thank you", waiting for Moran to get to what he wanted to discuss.

"If the snow does not toy with us, we will approach Nevarsin just before noon,” Sebastian said to him. “We will leave you at the edge of the forest - you understand that we can’t get any closer. However, you will be safe there, then you can finally contact and return to Sherlock."

John sighed, knowing he had to say something: "I'm sorry," he said finally.

Sebastian looked at him curiously, "For what?"

"For last night ... when I called Sherlock ... I ..."

Sebastian smiled sadly, "Don’t apologize. You just called the name of the person you love. I'm the one who should apologize for having taken without your permission. "

"That's not true!” John said in a cordial tone, “Everything that happened last night was with my consent. I know that if I had said no, you would have stopped. I ... I know that maybe I just ended up making things worse, but I wanted to help you, let you know that you can love again, even though James is dead."

"Too bad that the person that I love has already given his heart to another,” countered a melancholy Sebastian. “I just want to know what you see in that broomstick with a heart of ice."

John smiled amused: "I could ask you what you saw in James!"

Sebastian laughed, "You are right!” He turned serious, “I just hope Sherlock makes you happy. Know that if it is not so and you want to come back to me, I will be more than happy to welcome you among us. Even just as a friend."

John held out his hand to Sebastian who took it, his grip warm, strong and safe.

He held John’s hand longer than strictly necessary, but said no more to John.

 ---------------------------------- 

The next morning, a timid sun peeked through the snow clouds,

During the night, a white blanket of snow about ten centimeters thick had fallen, but that did not stop their journey.

As Sebastian expected, just before noon the silhouetted profile of the imposing tower of Nevarsin appeared, rising above the level of the plain.

John and Sebastian had nothing else to say; they simply dismounted and shook hands.

"Good luck, little John, don’t get into too much trouble. And remember, be happy!"

"Thanks for everything, Sebastian. Don’t get caught. And don’t lock yourself off to others. There is someone out there waiting for you – just don’t wait too long!"

John mounted his horse, nodded farewell to Moran’s men and headed for the tower.

Sebastian waited until John was almost at the gates of the citadel, where he knew he’d be safe. He could now return to the village and get on with his life.

 ----------------

At the door of the citadel, John removed the cap from his head.

The guard saw a young man with blond hair on which the frail rays of the winter sun shone as a red halo. His deep blue eyes were bright and kind and a well groomed beard and mustache covered his chin and upper lip, preventing an estimate of his precise age.

"I need to speak wth the Guardian,” John stated, “My name is ... "

He could not finish the sentence, because a familiar voice called to him: "John! You have arrived at last! "

John turned toward the voice and found himself in front of Beltran Felix Winston Hastur!

Watson looked at him surprised, feeling Beltran’s relief and happiness at seeing him.

"I've been waiting for so long,” the Hastur said, “that I thought I was wrong!"

John dismounted and Beltran embraced him with such a rush that he almost suffocated Watson, who stiffened.

Hastur let him go right away. "So it's true! You no longer have your matrix!"

"Moriarty tore it from me,”  John said succinctly. “Does Sherlock know that I'm alive?"

Beltran waved him to follow him, ordering the guard to take care of the horse.

"We’ll go to the Custodian of the Nevarsin first."

They were silent until they reached an elegantly furnished study, full of books.

They were joined by a middle-aged man with gray hair whose highlights still hinted to an original red. His physique was still athletic and his hazel eyes were tinged with specks of gold.

He smiled kindly to Beltran: "Once again your _Laran_ didn’t fail!” he exclaimed happily, “The boy has arrived."

Beltran smiled.

"John Regis Watson Di Asturien, allow me to present Rakhal Dannil Watson Di Asturien. Your uncle."

John studied the man more carefully. This was the first time he had met someone from his father’s family - not that he had met many relatives from his mother’s side either! Just Beltran.

Rakhal’s smile was happy and warm.

"I'm one of your father’s older brothers,” he said. “You remind me so much Gabriel at the same age. Both my father and Gareth, the oldest of our brothers, would have liked it if your parents had taken refuge with us in Castel Hastur, after their elopement. They would have been protected by the family. Instead, they preferred to hide."

"I told them not to stay in touch with anyone in the family," revealed Beltran.

Both Di Asturien turned to him, surprised, "Why?" asked John.

Beltran prevaricated: "Before I answer, I need to clarify something. John, I know you're tired, but could we examine you with the arrays? Afterwards I will answer any of your questions."

John was puzzled, but he had wanted answers since he was a child. Beltran had asked him to do many things without any explanation, now, finally, he could get some answers.

"Okay,” he replied. “But remember you owe me an explanation!"

Within a few minutes, the three men were joined by two women: one was Haramis Lanart, the other was presented to John as Jaelle Syrtis.

The four _Leronis_ took their places around John, as if they were the four corners of a square of which he was the center.

They drew their matrices and concentrated on them, joining their consciences into one which  gently pushed into John’s mind.

It was not the first time that Watson had been subjected to this test of his _Laran_.

Since he woke up after the fall at Reichenbach, John had wondered how it was possible that he was still alive. He had always thought that being separated from the matrix would lead to death or destruction of the mind – and he was feeling fine!

This time however, the examination was giving him trouble. He felt as if he was being invaded and he unconsciously opposed it, rejecting the four combined minds of the _Leronis_ away from himself.

John dropped to his knees and was caught by Beltran, while Haramis rushed to the table to get him something substantial to eat.

John tried to dismiss Beltran because he was annoyed at his closeness and that he was touching him.

"It's all right, John” Hastur said in a calm voice. “Don’t worry, everything is fine."

Haramis handed John a piece of cake, "Eat it, you need it."

John brought the cake to his mouth, but before he could even take a bite, he was violently sick.

"You need to eat,” Haramis told him gently, but firmly. ”You need energy and sugar."

With difficulty, John managed to swallow one piece of cake, but not the rest.

Beltran and Rakhal helped him to his feet and took him to another room, where they laid him on a bed.

Haramis covered him with a blanket, but by that time John was already asleep.

\---------------------------------- 

When John next woke the day was already half done. He still felt groggy, but he got up anyway because he was extremely hungry.

When he walked into the other room, Beltran and Rakhal were waiting for him.

On a small table under a window in the corner of the study was a place setting for one person, and the smell of food coming from that direction was so very inviting.

"I imagine you're hungry,” Rakhal said with a smile. “Don’t stand on ceremony, go ahead and eat."

John walked to the table and found the dishes presented were simple foods, but inviting. They reminded him of the meals prepared by his mother when he was living in the Hellers.

His parents and his home were not far from here. He could finally see them again, after so many years.

"I'm sorry, but you can’t go there," Beltran said, his voice pained.

John raised a quizzical look at him, he was sure he had not spoken aloud.

Was it possible that his uncle was violating the rules of telepaths and reading his mind without his consent?

"No, John,” Rakhal said gently. “You are no longer in control of your _Laran_ and you are broadcasting your thoughts."

"Absolutely great!” he exclaimed, irritated. “So I will not be able to have any private thoughts!"

Beltran and Rakhal smiled at him.

"You will learn to control your gift once more, John,” Beltran assured him. “We will go to Thendara and Haramis and I will teach you how to manage your _Laran_ without the matrix."

John stopped chewing, bread still warm in his mouth.

"How can I still be alive without the matrix? And why do we need to go to Thendara? We can’t stay here and do the training? Or go to Neskaya? Why can’t I return to my parents? Does Sherlock know that I’m alive and that I'm okay? "

Beltran sighed. "I will be concise with the answers because I want you to think carefully about what you will say. You're still alive because your pure Hastur _Laran_ protected you. I told you once before that you are a ‘living matrix’ - you don’t need a crystal to manage your power. The matrix helped you to control your _Laran_ , but now that you have been separated from it you will need to learn to manage without it.”

He paused, gazing sympathetically at his nephew.  “It will be significantly more difficult, because being a living matrix makes you very sensitive to everything, but you are strong and should be able to handle it.”

“Now, we’re going to Thendara because you are the heir of Regis Hastur and you must start learning how to govern Darkover and its people. That is why we can’t stay here or go to Neskaya. Haramis and I will accompany you to train you, but in addition, Regis and Caryl will also be involved in preparing you for your new task. You will have much to do in Thendara so you won’t get bored. Your parents and Sherlock had to believe you died for your own safety. The Aldaran are preparing a coup, taking advantage of the fact that everyone believes that Regis has no heirs. The death of your uncle Danvar, left the position vacant. No one knows about you, and no one must know until next full Comyn Council when Regis will officially adopt you and appoint you his heir. Until then, to keep you safe and avoid assassination attempts, you must seem to be dead."

John had stopped eating. All this information was making his head spin.

"And if I don’t?” John asked angrily. “If you have already decided all the details and everything, why did you bother asking me what I thought?!"

Beltran stared sternly at him, "We had no choice. It has been ages since anyone with full Hastur power was born! When I realized that you had pure _Laran_ and I had visions of your future, I knew I had to allow you to become a friend of Sherlock Lewis Holmes Alton, and so I sent you to Armida for that reason. I forced your parents to give you up, telling them that one day you would rule Darkover and that you had to be prepared for this. It was difficult for them to give you up, but they could do nothing else for the good of the planet. You and Sherlock are the future. You are the ones who will guide Darkover and our people to fulfill our fate, whatever that may be. I can’t approve what I did, but I had no choice."

Silence fell in the room.

John stared at the two men, his head swirling with all the information he had received.

He was the Heir to the Regency of Darkover.

He and Sherlock were meant to be together for the rest of their lives - for the good of the planet!

 He had been and would forever be the captive of his _Laran_.                                                               

John knew that he could nothing other than accept his destiny. He had called Sebastian a coward because he had done nothing to prevent James’ plans for their planet, so it would be hypocritical of him if he pulled back, now that it was up to him to sacrifice himself.

"When do we leave?" he asked.

"Tomorrow," Beltran replied.

John nodded his head in silent acceptance.

 

 

It was a very snowy winter and the journey to Thendara was very tiring.

John, Beltran and Haramis were escorted by the four man Nevarsin Guard hand-picked by Rakhal, who had greeted his grandson by enveloping him in a warm embrace.

On a rare sunny day, they passed close enough to Armida as to be able to admire the imposing structure standing out on the plain. John stopped for a moment to admire its form and could not help but think of Sherlock, who was inside the thick walls of the castle.

He wondered how he was, if he still thought of him or if he had moved ahead with his life.

He missed Sherlock a lot. He would have given anything to be able to charge back to Armida and let him know he was still alive, that he loved him; to kiss him and make love to him.

None of this could happen.

John hoped that Sherlock had been able to move forward and find a way to be happy.

He turned his horse and followed the others.

 ------------------------------------ 

After a few more days arduous journey, they reached Thendara.

They took lodging at an inn on the edge of town where the guards left them. They were no longer needed.

John was not permitted to visit the city and had to remain locked in their rooms with Haramis all day.

Beltran returned late that night and they all left immediately for the Castle of the _Comyn_.

Arriving at the foot of the west tower, they made their way to the garden and from there to a cave. After a long, circuitous route, they found themselves in front of a grating, beyond which an old man was waiting for them. The man, despite his age, was still impressive and looked at John gently.

He said nothing and they followed him silently up a spiral staircase leading to a large room, where another man was waiting for them, one who showed very similar features to both Beltran and their guide.

Haramis left them alone, and headed out of the rooms to get some refreshments.

Beltran made the introductions: "John, this is your grandfather, Caryl Rakhal Winston Hastur and this is Regis Garris Winston Hastur, the Lord Hastur."

John stared at them coolly: "Good evening," he said coldly.

Caryl looked uncomfortable, but Regis smiled. "You have the right to be angry with us, John. For a long time you have been kept in the dark about who you were and what we expected of you. And now, it has all fallen out in a way that makes it impossible for you to oppose it. Unfortunately, none of us have chosen our own destiny. This is what it is to be a Hastur: we must always place duty before our happiness."

"That's what I’ve done, Lord Hastur,” John said, “Not for you, not for me, but for Darkover."

Regis smiled. "I could not have asked for more. Now you have a long, intensive training period ahead of you. Are you ready?"

"Yes, Lord Hastur. I'm ready."

 ---------------------------------------- 

The following months passed slowly and monotonously with the same alternating routines: training in the use of his _Laran_ with Beltran and Haramis, politics with Regis, and weapons with Caryl.

John saw only these four people, could not leave the rooms in which he was staying so as to avoid a chance encounter with someone who would understand who he really was.

Only a few times, and always at night, he was allowed on a tour of the district, always leaving the secret passage and never unaccompanied. In any case, the winter was hard and not inviting for long walks.

In those rare moments he was alone, his thoughts ran to Sherlock.

John had learned of Mary’s death giving birth to their son, and that Sherlock was looking after him.

Although he had not love Mary he was saddened by the death of his wife, as he had a great affection for her. He wondered how long it would be before he would be able to get to know his child, but was glad it was Sherlock caring for him and that his friend had someone on whom to shower his love.

Sometimes John found himself in the _OverWorld_ and could feel Sherlock’s presence, but he could only watch from a distance.

On those rare occasions, he felt so much anger and pain as to take away his breath.

\---------------------------------------------- 

Spring finally arrived, and with its coming, the meeting of the _Comyn_. During the _Comyn_ Council, Regis would officially adopt John and appoint him as his heir.

The night before the Council, John used the spiral staircase to leave his rooms. Once outside he began his regular walk in the garden. The first flowers and blades of green grass were peeping out from amidst the last remnants of snow.

The night was crisp, but serene.

In the sky shone all four moons, although Mormallor was not yet completely full.

Suddenly, he heard a hubbub coming from the Castle’s courtyard. Intrigued, he climbed the tower so he could observe without being seen.

To his surprise there stood a detachment of men from Armida. He recognized Lestrade and, not far from him, he saw Sherlock holding the Irene’s hand.

His heart tightened. That gesture could only mean that Sherlock had adapted to life as her husband.

John peered closer to better observe: it seemed to him that Sherlock had lost weight, but perhaps that was just the effect of traveling cloak.

He was talking to Rafael and Mycroft, when he suddenly turned to the side, as if he knew he was being watched.

John knew he should not be seen, so he ran swiftly away from the tower and back to his room.

He spent the night unable to sleep. To know he was under the same roof as Sherlock but be unable to hug him, kiss him or touch him was pure torture!

 The following morning, the Council met for this first time.

John wore a hooded cloak with the hood up to cover his face and followed Regis, Caryl and Beltran onto the Hastur stage. As they entered, his eye was drawn straight to Sherlock who was seated right at the front of his family’s stage.

He noticed immediately that Sherlock was staring directly at him and John wondered whether he had been recognized or if Sherlock was just wondering who he was.

During the confrontation between the Aldaran and the Alton, John had turned off the _Laran_ dampers to allow Sherlock the opportunity to force Moriarty to confess.

When Sherlock exposed them, John felt a strong surge of pride for him, but he then realized that Holmes was about to use the Voice Command to force the conspirators to kill each other. Left with no other options, he intervened, dropping the hood from his head so Sherlock could see him, sending him a telepathic message:

"Don’t do Sherlock. You can stop now. It will be the Council’s duty to punish them. Do not needlessly stain your hands with their blood."

Sherlock turned suddenly around to face him. Their eyes had finally crossed, after a long time.

He smiled.

Beltran grabbed his nephew's arm, so John covered his head and followed his uncle back to the Hastur apartments.

To waiting for Sherlock.

To wait for the fulfillment of his destiny.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------


	16. Gocce di Memoria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally Sherlock and John are together.

** [Chapter ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3906340/chapters/8742100) ** ** 16 ** **:  Gocce di Memoria**

 

 ** _Today_** ...

Sherlock rushed off the Alton stage and strode toward the Hasturs’. He was certain he had really seen John! He pulled opened the door, but the box was empty.

"Where are the Hasturs?" he asked the guard peremptorily.

The man replied immediately, "They went to the Regent’s Apartments, my Lord."

"Which way is it?"

"To the east, Lord ..."

Sherlock did not hear anything else, but swung around on his heel and headed at full pace for the rooms the Regent occupied inside the Palace of the Comyn.

Mycroft and Rafael tried to block his path.

"Sherlock, are you insane?” Mycroft demanded. “You can’t behave like this! The position of Regent should be respected! You can’t just break into the Hastur apartments as if you were entitled to such free access!"

Sherlock didn’t slow his pace, "That was _John_ on the Hastur stage," he snarled.

Mycroft grabbed him tightly by the arm, "For Aldones sake, Sherlock, stop!” he ordered, furiously. “Don’t be absurd! John died a year ago."

The younger Holmes stared his older brother in the eye: "You have been here the whole time,” he said slowly, “You had to know that John was alive and that he was living in this castle. Why didn’t you tell me?"

Mycroft held his younger brother’s gaze. "You're wrong, Sherlock. I don’t know who you've seen, but is John DEAD. You saw him falling into the waterfall."

"His body was never found,” Sherlock stated, “And I've just seen him! I also heard him. He told me to stop, not to kill the Aldarans because they would be punished by the Council."

The older Holmes snorted: "No one can hear someone talking on the Hastur stage from ours! They are simple far too far away. The dampers prevent the use of laran ... "

"You forget that the dampers were out,” Sherlock pointed out, breaking free of his brother’s grip and resumed his charge to the Hastur wing. Strangely, none of the guards did anything to prevent the move.

He did not even break stride to knock on the Doors, but threw them both open wide.

In the large room that served as entrance and living room, sat Regis, Beltran and Caryl Hastur on comfortable chairs in front of the fireplace. They looked up at Sherlock’s entrance, but did not show any surprise at his appearance.

Behind him, Mycroft and Rafael appeared, breathless and humiliated by the behavior of the youngest Holmes.

Regis smiled at newcomers with amusement, "It is lucky that I gave orders to let you pass, young man, or I believe I would have had many guards to care for, today."

"Lord Hastur,” Rafael started, “I must apologize for the appalling behavior of my son … !”

Regis raised a hand to stop him. "There is no need, Lord Alton, everything is fine. I've been waiting for him."

Mycroft and Rafael looked at him in surprise. Sherlock had finished studying the layout of the room and was heading towards a closed door when it opened in front of him and an elegantly dressed blond man with a slight beard entered the room carrying a book.

Sherlock's face lit with a wide smile, as he strode directly to the newcomer, cupping his face with his large hands and kissing him hard on the lips with obvious passion.

John dropped the book and returned the kiss with fervor.

Mycroft and Rafael watched the scene unfold not believing their eyes, while Regis and Caryl watched the two young men with amused smiles.

Sherlock moved his hands from John’s face, drawing him firmly to him, one arm behind his neck and the other around his waist, unsure if he was embracing a ghost, an illusion or a real, breathing human being.

John finally managed to move far enough away from Sherlock to be able to breathe.

"You're choking me!" he complained laughingly.

Sherlock did not let him go, just studied his features, lost in the deep blue eyes that he had so missed.

"It's really me,” John reassured him. “I'm sorry I had to allow you to believe I was dead, but we had to expose the Aldaran’s plan and we did not know who to trust. I was sure, though, that you would discover the leaders of the plot to destroy the Comyn and give the planet to the Terrani."

John gave him one of those special smiles, full of wonder, pleasure and pride that was reserved for him alone. See it, Sherlock was finally able to speak. "How did you survive? How did you get to Thendara?"

Regis interjected: "Please everyone, sit down,” he said, indicating for Mycroft and Rafael to take a seat as one of the guards closed the doors. “Allow me introduce to you the Heir of Hastur."

The three Holmes sat down, exchanging looks, aghast. "The Heir of Hastur?"

Caryl was almost bursting out of his skin with pride.

"The appointment will be made officially tomorrow, but as we are among friends, we can give you a preview. The young man you know as John Watson, is in fact, John Regis Watson Di Asturien; the son of my daughter Liriel Deanna and her husband Gabriel Alderic Watson Di Asturien."

"But they’ve been dead for years!" exclaimed Mycroft.

Caryl blushed, while Regis smiled slyly.

"Actually, my brother had a falling out with his daughter because she preferred to marry Gabriel instead Mikhail Aillard."

"Smart woman your mother,” Sherlock interjected to John, “I don’t know your father, but I definitely believe he is a much better match than Lord Mikhail! Moreover, only a fool would not know that it would be better to marry his daughter to a Treetop, rather than to Aillard!"

Regis cleared his throat, while Caryl became even more red-faced.

"As I said, my niece and her husband disappeared from the public eye, living a pleasantly bucolic life and raising two children. Harriet works as a mechanic at the Tower of Tramontana, while John is here with us. Beltran always remained in contact with Liriel and Gabriel and when he realized that Sherlock and John had met in the Over World, he has facilitated the arrival of my nephew to  Castel Armida. Beltran wanted John to be sent to Neskaya and knew that this wat he would follow Sherlock as his Squire."

"But why was it necessary to send him to Neskaya in secret?” Rafael asked. “If Beltran had revealed who John really was he could have been trained without any problems! He is the  legitimate offspring of Comyn parents! There was no need for him to remain hidden!"

"Actually, there were several reasons why his identity could not be revealed,” Regis responded. “Firstly, Ranald Aldaran wanted to be appointed my heir at all cost and was quite prepared to eliminate anyone who got in his way, as he probably did with Danvar. Therefore, we had to be sure that John would reach adulthood without anyone finding out who he was.”

“The second reason lies with the type of gift with which John was born. Had he possessed a normal _Laran_ , he could have gone to Neskaya as a Di Asturien and no one would have had any suspicions. The fact is that John has a _laran_ which would immediately be identified as Hastur, and as such, Aldaran would attempt to kill him and the house Hastur would lose its second heir!"

Sherlock turned a searching look on John, who turned red under the scrutiny

"You have the pure Hastur power!” he stated with certainty. “You are a living matrix!"

"That’s not possible!” Mycroft exclaimed, surprised.  “There have been no children born with pure _laran_ in centuries!"

"Actually” Regis smiled, “From what I’ve been able to gather, Sherlock also has pure _laran_."

Sherlock was surprised and did not want to interrupt, so he contacted John telepathically: "You knew!” he asserted. “You've always known. You knew my power had no effect on you!"                           

"Yes, I knew." confirmed John.

"I do not understand though,” Sherlock continued. “The one time I thought that you had betrayed me, I used my power to force you to come to bed with me and you do not resist. Why?"

"I had to make you believe that I was not immune to your power. You didn’t know who I was, but you'd understand immediately if I resisted. Beltran made me swear that _no_ one would know what power I possessed, even you. I’m so sorry I had to hide this from you Sherlock, but I could not do otherwise."

"That's the secret that I perceived in you!” Sherlock said; “And I thought that you didn’t really loved me."

"Do you really think that I don’t love you?" John asked, saddened.

Sherlock jumped up and moved away from John, who looked pained.

"You're so angry with me for this lie? I could not go against my word."

Sherlock shook his head, smiling. "No, I'm not angry. But I've always heard that a Hastur with pure _laran_ is particularly sensitive to everything, that every touch is like receiving a stab wound. I was so _close_ to you, I ... "

John smiled, interrupting: "Actually, now that I no longer have the matrix to buffer me from the rest of the world, I don’t like to be touched by anyone! But you're not anyone. Come back and sit down."

Sherlock sat back down next to John, kissing him tenderly on the lips, "I’ve never understood anything about feelings, as you know."

The sound of someone clearing their throat caused Sherlock to remove his lips from John’s with a grunt of disappointment, while John himself blushed deeply.

"And now, my son, I have something to ask you," Regis said.

"My name is Sherlock," the young Holmes interrupted.

Huffing in exasperation, Mycroft poked an elbow into his ribs and Sherlock hastened to add, "Lord Hastur,” in a rather annoyed tone.

John chuckled and Sherlock glared at him.

Rafael rolled his eyes. "Again I ask pardon for my son, Lord Hastur. I assure you that I raised both my sons in the same way, but one of them never chose to understand the importance of the titles!"

"Stupid rules, meaningless and false," mumbled Sherlock.

Regis gave a melancholy smile, "Do not worry, Lord Alton, someone loves your son despite this. You may not remember, but your father was just like him.”

Regis paused a moment before continuing. “As I was about to say ... _Sherlock,_ as the younger Alton son you would normally have the command of the City Guard of Thendara, but it is a job you have, to date, always refused, claiming to be disinterested. I was wondering ... "

"I accept," Sherlock interrupted him quickly.

Hearing the despairing sighs of his father and brother, Sherlock snorted, "Lord Hastur, it will be a great honor for me to take command of the City Guard of Thendara for the protection of the body of the Heir to the Regency."

John laughed, while Rafael and Mycroft hid their faces with their hands.

Regis and Cayril showed only slightly amused smiles, but their eyes sparkled as if they were holding back the laughter.

The only one who remained serious was Beltran.

"What did I say wrong!" Sherlock snapped angrily.

"Absolutely nothing,” Regis said, giving in to laughter. “Well, I think our two boys have a lot to say to each other, so I propose we dismiss them, while we adults we organize for tomorrow."

This time Sherlock waited for a nod from his father, before standing up and taking John by the hand.

\-----------------------

John led him to Regis’ rooms.

"Where are we going?" Sherlock puzzled.

"My room," John replied succinctly.

They entered the private rooms of the Regent, lined with age darkened wood paneling.  John pressed a concealed mechanism on one section of the wall and a door opened to reveal a spiral staircase.

Climbing the steps, they found themselves in another set of rooms, spacious, bright and beautifully furnished.

A huge bed sat prominently opposite the entrance to the staircase. To the right of the bed was a fireplace with a warm crackling fire and a couple of comfy chairs in front of it. On the left of the bed, a large window overlooked the landscape surrounding the city. Opposite the bed was a wardrobe and a small but well stocked library.

"Why do the Hastur have a secret room in the castle?"

John smiled. "It is not a prison, if that's what you think. It serves to accommodate people they want to keep secret from the Comyn - lovers, spies, potential allies."

"How long you been here?"

"Since just over a month after the fall at Reichenbach. I have been training to control my _laran_ and to perform my new role."

"I was wondering ..." Sherlock began.

John turned to him, curious: "What?"

A mischievous smile twisted Sherlock’s lips. "Until a year ago I fucked my squire, so now, can I make love to my King?"

John laughed and his eyes lit up. Sherlock stared greedily. He had missed those eyes he could so easily drown in - so blue and as deep as the ocean.

"I don’t believe that you are permitted to make indecent proposals to your king,” John said, trying hard to stop laughing, “But you could always try with the future Heir to the Regency!”

He became suddenly serious. “I was told that you missed me a lot."

Sherlock raised his hand and gently stroked his face, as if afraid that he would vanish or hurt him again. John moved his lips to Sherlock’s without touching them.

"I think you can do better than that!” he whispered, “I’ve not become more fragile than I was before."

Sherlock didn’t need it to be repeated, he grabbed John’s face with both hands and kissed his lips, first timidly, then with increase strength, exploring the other's mouth with his tongue to make sure it was really him.

John kissed back and let Sherlock explore his body with his hands, the caresses  an attempt to assess the reality of him,  whole and uninjured.

When he was satisfied, Sherlock broke away from the John’s lips, leaning his face to the other’s and hugging him possessively.

They were both panting.

"I will never leave you again,” murmured John.

Sherlock smiled. Without uttering a word and with his eyes fixed to John’s he slowly undressed before him, then undressed himself. He began to kiss and caress him, pushing him ever closer towards the bed.

When they eventually tumbled down together they were so aroused that they immediately began thrusting against each other even as they continued their caressing and kissing.

It did not take long for both of them to come.

Sherlock leaned over John’s, trying not to lose contact with his warm skin.

He looked into his eyes for a moment, then began kissing him from the neck down, moving slowly to the groin, using his hands, mouth and tongue to explore every centimeter of the John’s skin.

Once at John’s cock, Sherlock drew it into his mouth, licking and sucking to elicit as much response as possible.

John uttered groans of pleasure, opening his legs and running his hands through Sherlock’s dark  curls.

Sherlock removed his mouth, lying down on his stomach next to him, a mischievous glint in his eyes: "I want you to take me," Sherlock whispered in John’s ear.

John started, visibly surprised. Throughout their relationship in Castel Armida, Sherlock had always penetrated John.

"Why?” John asked confused, “I don’t mind if you take me."

Sherlock smiled, brushing his lips with a kiss, "I hope so, because I love being in you. It makes me feel like we are one."

"I feel the same. Feeling you inside me is like merging our souls as well as our bodies," John said with a sweet tone.

"I want to feel you inside me,” Sherlock insisted. “I need to feel you inside me! I missed you so much, John. I felt empty and alone as never before. I need you to come into me and fill the space you have left."

John stroked his cheek with a finger, "I'm sorry you have suffered so much,” he whispered sadly. “I wanted to avoid everything that happened, but there was nothing I could do! You understand, don’t you?"

"Yes, I understand." Sherlock replied reassuringly.

"You know, you're amazing and I love you with all my being, right?" John said, unable to ward off the gloom.

"I know,” Sherlock couldn’t understand the sadness John was feeling at that moment and added jokingly, “But don’t get too complacent: remember that you are mine and though I love being just yours, I won’t be owned."

John closed his eyes mischievously: "Look, I just let you just believe that you're the one in command, while in reality, the power has always been in _my_ hands!"

Sherlock smirked, "A real Hastur!” He tilted his head, “So then, show me see what you're worth!"

John became serious again as he looked into his partner’s eyes: "Sherlock, really, I do not want to hurt you."

"Are you saying that I'm hurting you when I penetrate you?" Sherlock asked worriedly.

John sighed: "Of course not! Do not pretend you don’t understand."

"I did a lot of work for prepared. Do not waste it."

John stared at him for a few seconds. Seeing him resolute, he rolled over onto his body, kissing down his back from top to bottom.

He then gently and slowly penetrated him, listening for every sound and every reaction, ready to stop at the first sign of discomfort.

Sherlock’s groans, however, made him understand that everything was going to be okay.

He opened his _laran_ fully to perceive his and Sherlock’s emotions. Their souls and their bodies were fused ever closer as John thrust deeper and faster in Sherlock.

Determined not to be the only one to enjoy the moment, he took the Sherlock’s cock with one hand and tailored the pace of his thrusts with the movements of his hand.

They came together in an orgasm of body and soul, as complete and united as they had never been.

 -------------------------------------------- 

John slipped out from Sherlock and lay beside him, panting and sweating.

"Are you okay?" he asked, to be sure that his senses were not deceiving him.

Sherlock clung to John’s body with both arms and legs. "Never better,” he said, nuzzling John’s neck. “Did you exercise this year that you've been away from me? You know, I’m jealous! I don’t want to share you with anyone."

John became suddenly serious; "Sherlock, do you remember Sebastian Dyan Moran Ardais?"

Sherlock grimaced in disgust: "Of course!  James Moriarty’s boyfriend. I heard that he joined with a group of bandits who have their refuge in the Hellers. Sooner or later I'll find him make sure he gets what he deserves."

John stopped kissing him, putting a finger to his lips. "Or we could just leave him alone," he said in a firm tone.

Sherlock stopped, sat up in the bed, his ice colored eyes reduced to slits.

"Why should we be nice to him?"

John sat down before him, “Because he saved my life;” he answered. “He and his men pulled me out of the river, cured me and took me to Nevarsin, where Beltran was waiting to take me to Thendara."

Sherlock felt that there was more, "And?"

"We spent a night together."

Sherlock stared at him for some time. John waited for his reaction.

"Did he rape you?" He asked through clenched teeth.

"No. I wanted it. It was my way of saying thanks."

Sherlock flew out of bed, furious.

"And you had no other way to thank him than to make love with him?"

"James is dead because of me,” John said. “Sebastian saved me from certain death and I just wanted to give him a night, to let him know that he can still find someone with whom to share his life."

"You gave yourself to him!” shouted Sherlock., “To a man who would not have hesitated to rape you to make his lover happy!"

John shook his head, “Sebastian is no longer that guy. He is a man who knows what is wrong and what is right. He’s building a new life and he needed to make a clean break from his past."

"By fucking you?" growled Sherlock.

John looked wounded, but did not reply.

Sherlock went to the window. Thendara lay at his feet, but as it was night, he could only see the lights of the houses. He regained control of his breathing and heartbeat.

The idea of John making love with Sebastian Moran made him mad.

How could he? When he who had thought John dead and therefore would have been justified, had not been granted any sexual distraction.

But John had given his body, of his free will, to a bandit!

John said quietly, "I know that there is no justification for what I did, but I felt compelled to help. He reminded me so much you ..."

Sherlock turned furiously, "Don’t insult me by comparing me to him!"

"I didn’t do anything but think of you all the time, hoping you had someone to comfort you."

"I would not have betrayed you," Sherlock hissed.

John had wanted to confess to Sherlock that he had been with Sebastian, not wanting there to be secrets between them, as this night was intended to be the beginning of a new life for them, shared by both and for both forever.

But he was frightened by the fact that Sherlock could not understand that he had only wanted to help Sebastian move on with his life, not to start a relationship with him. He had given the other man something that would allow him to erase the ghosts of the past by making peace with himself.

Now, however, Sherlock’s anger made him fear that he might lose him.

John stared at the floor dejectedly. "That night I dreamed of being in the Over World, making love to you. I had not realized that it was Sebastian I was with until ... "

Sherlock rushed to the bed, grabbing John by the shoulders. "What did you say?"

John looked at him strangely, "What?"

"You said you've been dreaming in the Over World. When?"

John thought for a moment. "It was the night before we set out for Nevarsin, early winter."

Sherlock smiled:. "I also I dreamed one night that we were in the Over World. It was the only time I dreamt of you in all those months. The dream was so vivid that I came, screaming your name."

They looked long into each other’s eyes.

Sherlock lightly touched John’s lips, "Don’t you see? We can’t both have spontaneously had the same dream, therefore it must have been real!  I had the identical experience; so we must have met in the Over World and made love! Only I thought you were dead, and you thought you were making love with Sebastian. Instead, it was us, and only us!”

John felt relieved.

"What I had with Sebastian was never love, Sherlock. Just as what I had with Mary was not love."

Sherlock slowly nodded his head: "As I with Irene,” he muttered. “It’s the idea of you with anyone else that drives me crazy."

"I'm sorry," John whispered, lowering his eyes.

Sherlock put a finger to his lips. "What that man did to your body at that time has nothing to do with us. Sebastian Moran has never existed nor will he exist as a barrier between us,” he said resolutely, “Alright?"

John knew that Sherlock was controlling fatigue, anger, disappointment and jealousy. He knew the topic would come up again, but thought that they had been quite sufficiently distracted for one night, and he just wanted to make his feelings clear to Sherlock.

"No one is more important to me than you!” he said. “I hope you know that."

Sherlock smiled: "I'll make sure that you can’t forget it."

He stood for a moment staring silently John, then cocked his head to one side. "Are there any other lovers I have to be made aware of?" he asked jokingly.

John looked offended: "Absolutely not! What sort of person do you think I am?"

Sherlock stared at him mischievously, trying to catch the atmosphere that had been between them at the start of the evening.

"You know what you have to do to make me forgive you, right?"

Sherlock slowly began to kiss on John’s lips, down his chin and neck, moving below the ears, and then up towards the chin and lips, pushing the body of John to lie down on the bed and putting on him:

"There's one thing you could do for me."

Sherlock moved his lips onto John’s neck, leaning delicate kisses.

John shivered with pleasure and closed his eyes, unable to keep from emitting small groans:

"Wha ... what?" he managed to say between one groan and another.

Sherlock abruptly stopped kissing him and sat down, while John opened his eyes, puffing unhappily at the interruption.

Sherlock was staring seriously at him: "The facial hair must disappear. I feel uncomfortable when I kiss you."

John smiled, "Your wish is my command. Do I have to do it now or can I put it off until tomorrow and you can resume what you were doing before?"

Sherlock seemed to consider the question. A corner of his lips lifted: "I guess it can wait until tomorrow."

He began to kiss John on the neck and chest, moving down the chest as if to mark his lover's body with his kisses, to regain sole possession.

"Are you tired?" Sherlock asked between kisses.

"Of you? Never." said John, looking intently at him. “Why?”

Sherlock raised his lips in a satisfied grin, "Well, because you'll need all night to be forgiven. And I'm pretty sure even that will not be enough. I think you will have to make reparation for every remaining moment of your life!"

John smiled. "I can’t wait to start."

And the rest of the night saw them seek, meet and love each other.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


	17. Where my heart will take me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John was appointed heir to Hastur, but black clouds on the horizon.

****

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**[Chapter ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3906340/chapters/8742100)17 ** **:** **Where my heart will take me**

 

 

Once he was fully awake the following morning John got out of bed, careful to not disturb Sherlock. He shaved his beard, taking the time to ensure his face was perfectly smooth before returning.

Once beneath the covers, he began to softly kiss and caress the soft white expanse of Sherlock’s back.

After a while, when Sherlock gave no response, John gave up with a disappointed sigh deciding to just wait for the other to be in a more receptive mood.

He was just lying back, when without warning Sherlock rolled over John, grabbing his wrists and locking them into position beside his golden head.

"I _thought_ you were pretending," John laughed breathlessly.

Sherlock didn’t answer, simply kissing his partner thoroughly, thrusting his tongue forcefully into John’s mouth.

He did not remain there for long before running his chin down John’s neck nuzzling as he went, before focusing on a particularly sensitive area of skin which caused John to squirm deliciously. Still kissing him, he began moving his pelvis rhythmically until John joined him.

When they came together, Sherlock leaned over to kiss John, "I could get used to waking this way," he whispered.

John laughed, "Me too."

Sherlock raised himself up on his elbows, to better see his partner’s face. "Now that is definitely better!"

John smiled. "Well, your wish is my command, right?"

Sherlock leaned down to kiss him again, but John drew back. "We must get ready. Today will be a very busy day."

Sherlock sighed dramatically; "Always duty before everything else!"

"If you get ready now, tonight I'll do whatever you want," John coaxed mischievously.

Sherlock sat up in bed and stared avidly at him. "Be careful what you promise, John, I do not forget a thing to do with you!"

John just smiled back and Sherlock was lost, staring into the shining, bright blue eyes of the only person to truly know and love him.

\-------------------------

While they had been asleep, someone had brought in clothes for them to wear for the ceremony.

John’s jacket was in the gray and green colors of the Di Asturien, while Sherlock’s coat was in the red and black of Alton.

They made their way through the Hastur’s chambers, entering the living room to find Regis, Caryl and Beltran in the company of six other people.

John stopped abruptly, looking as if he had seen a ghost.

Not understanding what was going on, Sherlock’s eyes kept switching between John and the others in the room, before turning to look searchingly at the newcomers.

Sherlock immediately recognized Harriet Di Asturien to be John’s sister, which explained why she had been so hostile towards him at Neskaya Tower.

Next to Harriet stood a strikingly beautiful middle-aged woman with a regal bearing. She had the same eyes as John, while the man next to her had the same facial features and hair color of the younger Watson. The other three men in the room also bore a slight resemblance to him.

This was obviously the family John had been torn from when he had been taken to Castel Armida.

Sherlock quietly stepped to the side, not wanting to intrude on their reunion.

It had been so many years since the whole family had been together that the tension in the room was palpable.

John managed to mumble a shy "Mother ... Father ...", accompanied by an elegant bow.

He could clearly see Liriel struggling to hold back tears.

Harriet went to her younger brother, embraced him warmly and whispered, "What are you doing, stupid? They thought you had died and yet you greet them as if you don’t know who they are? Do you have any idea how much it cost them to not rush to Armida to take you back? Beltran has struggled just to keep them from following you. It was only when he made it clear to them this was the best thing for you that they remained where they were!"

Harriet broke off the hug and putting her hand on John’s back, gently but firmly, pushed him towards his parents.

Regis was the first to speak.

"Today is a special day, John, because today you will officially become my son and heir. But I want you to be sure of what it is you are doing. You will be a new _Comyn_ , different from the rest of us. You were not brought up in the comfort of the houses of the main families _._  But it will be you who will reunite the two halves of Darkover - the _Comyn_  and the common people. I am certain you will be a great caretaker, and you will have someone beside you to help you in the difficult times that lie ahead.”

He paused before continuing, gesturing towards the others in the room.

“These are your true parents. Not only did they create you, they have loved, protected, educated and cherished you for all of your life. They grieved when you were taken away from them, but accepted it because it was what had to be done to prepare for this day. I don’t want you to imagine for one moment that your parents were disinterested in you, it would not be fair to them. I had asked Rakhal to bring them here,  but Beltran insisted on escorting them. They arrived last night. We let you boys sleep, given how busy today will be, but it was only right that you met with them before officially agreeing to become the Hastur heir."

Without a word, John threw himself into his parents’ arms, hugging them both tightly to him. “I have missed you so much!”

They stayed that way for a long time. It could never make up for the lost years, but it linked them together in a  bond that nothing and no one would ever break.

When they parted, John said, his voice trembling slightly: "Mother, Father, I have never thought that you didn’t love me. I've _always_ known that you did. I was just astonished and overjoyed to see you here. I hope you understand why I have agreed to become the son of the Lord Hastur. If you think it is wrong, just tell me and I will refuse to change my name."

Liriel took his hands in hers: "We are Hastur,” she said, smiling. “Our duty to the people of Darkover is to ensure an heir who can properly govern Darkover and protect its people. We have raised you with all our love and we never wanted to be separated from you. We are so _proud_ of the man you've become. It is only right that Hastur have an heir, and no one will be better suited to that position than you. You will be a son for Regis, but we will _never_ stop being your parents!"

"You will change your name, today,” added Gabriel, “You will call another man than me ‘father’. But this does not stop me from being your father too. And Regis knows this. You may be right to become the heir of Hastur, John, but nothing will change what we feel and what we are for each other."

John embraced his parents, deeply moved.

Rakhal grinned at him. "John, before you give up your surname, let me introduce you to the rest of your Di Asturien family!” Pointing to the other two men he said, “This is Danilo Kyril Watson Di Asturien, your Grandfather, and Gareth Felix Watson Di Asturien, your father’s older brother and heir of the family Di Asturien."

Both his Grandfather and Uncle were watching John with pride.

"As we have not had the chance to get to know each other before,” Danilo Di Asturien acknowledged, “know that we would have wanted you to grow up with us in Castel Hastur. Fate chose another way, but even once Regis adopts you and you become the heir to Hastur, you will always remain a part of our family."

John smiled at his grandfather and shook his hand: "I am happy to meet you both, Lord Di Asturien, and I am honored to be part of your family."

"Grandfather," corrected Danilo.

"Grandfather," agreed John.

"Before this, you didn’t have to bother with any family at all, and now you have so many relatives you will  probably end up doing whatever it takes to get rid of us!" Regis quipped as everyone laughed.

\-------------------------

Sherlock was standing on the sidelines, feeling almost like an intruder at the family reunion.

Seeing John surrounded by his relatives saddened Sherlock, because he appeared to love being surrounded by the warmth of his family, yet he had been denied that warmth for so long through an act of arrogant selfishness.

John turned to him smiling, motioning him to approach, which Sherlock reluctantly did.

"Let me introduce Sherlock Lewis Holmes Alton, the man I love." John said warmly.

"Oh," Liriel said simply, eyeing Holmes critically.

Sherlock looked from Liriel to John, puzzled; "Is it a hallmark of your family to reply to a comment with just _‘Oh’_?"

Watson knew perfectly well that Sherlock was referring to the first time he had told John he loved him and John had reacted to that confession with a simple "Oh."

John looked at him in a very serious manner. "So because you are so wonderful, no-one can say ‘Oh’ to signify their recognition of your extraordinary uniqueness?"

Sherlock's eyes became slits of indistinct color: "You do know I love everything about you, right?" he asked with a sweet tone.

John, slightly uncertain, replied, "I certainly hope so."

The smile on Sherlock’s lips was very mischievous; "But your sarcasm is the thing that I love least about you."

The rest of the sentence was only for two of them: _"And I think tonight you'll have to forgive me._   _I have something particular in mind._   _Do not try to steal it._  "

John grinned: _"I would never do that!"_

Turning back to his family he continued; "Sherlock has an unusual sense of humor and I love him even more for that."

Regis moved over to the group. “I hate to break things up, but it really is time to head over to the Council Chambers."

\-------------------------

They moved as one to the _Comyn_  Council room, a unified family.

Sherlock had stayed next to John, who took his little finger with his own, to make him understand how important it was for him to know he was close.

The Council chamber was fuller than it had been in years. Only the Aldaran stage was empty. After the happenings of the day before, the head of the family had decided that it was wiser not to show up.

In the center of the large room was a loft.

Sherlock moved to the Alton stage with his parents and brother, while John sat on that of the Di Asturien with his parents, sister, grandfather and uncles.

Every so often the youngest Holmes glanced at John and saw him smiling and talking with his parents.

Sherlock was happy to see John so cheerful and serene. Sharing his happiness made him feel satisfied, at peace with the world and finally happy with his life.

Even so, John would every so often turn to the Alton stage, looking for Sherlock. When their eyes met, it was as if time, space and the rest of the world did not exist.

Eventually the buzz subsided when Regis, Caryl and Beltran made their way onto the Hastur stage. Beltran also paused to observe John with his family, but his eyes were sad, almost pained.

Sherlock noticed and wondered what worried the Guardian of Neskaya.

Regis, meanwhile, had started the meeting and called the Terran delegate Sheldon to face the charges that the family Aldaran had illegally commenced negotiations with the Terrani.

It was a surprise to all that instead of Sheldon, a fairly young, dark haired man stepped forward.

"Members of the Comyn, Good Morning,” he began. “My name is Phillip Anderson and I am the new Delegate from Earth."

A flash of anger crossed Regis’ face. "What has happened to Delegate Sheldon?" he asked in a harsh tone.

Anderson made a contrite expression.

"Lord Hastur, we have found that the ex-delegate Sheldon, in contradiction to his orders from Earth, had conspired against the free government of Darkover. As such, he was stripped of his position and sent back to our planet to answer for his crimes."

A loud murmur of dissent was raised by the Assembly, but a gesture from Regis brought silence.

"Why were we not informed? We have the right to judge the actions of Sheldon for ourselves!"

Anderson smiled, "In reality, it is not so, Lord Hastur. As a citizen of Earth, Sheldon must be judged by our laws, not yours."

The expression of Regis became stern and with a cold voice he continued, "Before he was extradited to Earth, you should have allowed us to question him. How can we know who else was involved in this plot?"

Anderson said quietly:  "I assure you, Lord Hastur, all the conspirators have paid for their crimes."

From the stages rose another chorus of protests which Regis calmly silenced. "If that is the case, you may leave, Officer Anderson. I will see you tomorrow in my office.  **Do not** forget!"

A guard approached Anderson and escorted him to the exit of the building.

Regis ignored the Terran, addressing the Comyn.

_"Comyn_  of Darkover, there is a change to the Agenda for this meeting.  We will now proceed with the appointment of the Commander of the Thendara City Watch and the proclamation of the Heir to Hastur."

Regis stepped into the center of the room and stood in the middle of the loft. 

Projecting his voice he announced: "I, Regis Garris Winston Hastur, Regent to the Throne of Darkover, call on Sherlock Lewis Holmes Alton."

In the silence of the room, a voice rose from the stage of Alton: "I am here, Lord Hastur."

"Sherlock Lewis Holmes Alton, do you agree to take command of the City Guard of Thendara?"

Sherlock stood, clearly perceiving that his father and brother were holding their breath, fearful that he might say or do something to embarrass them. He felt John’s gaze upon him and smiled.

"I accept the commission, Lord Hastur, and I swear to devote my life to the protection of the  _Comyn_  and the people of Darkover."

With a nod from Regis, Sherlock approached the loft and Hastur placed in his hands, the sword of office, symbol of his new position. He then stepped to the side of the loft.

Regis then began to speak: "Noble  _Comyn,_  you all know that I have been denied the gift of a child and that my presumptive heir, Danvar, son of my brother Caryl, died tragically young. It may have appeared as if our family had no other suitable Hastur heirs, but that is **not** the case.  My niece, Liriel Deanna Winston Hastur, daughter of my brother Caryl, married Gabriel Alderic Watson Di Asturien. They have a daughter and a son. Today I, Regis Garris Winston Hastur, ask John Regis Watson Di Asturien to assume the position of my son and heir."

Amidst the soft background rumble of surprise, John stood from his seat and spoke in a clear and firm voice:

"I, John Regis Watson Di Asturien, agree to renounce my name and my Watson Di Asturien heritage to become the son of Regis Garris Winston Hastur."

That said, he stepped down from the Di Asturien stage and walked over to the dais, followed by his father Gabriel.

Regis nodded to Sherlock who stepped in front of John and began to unbutton his Di Asturien jacket.

Sherlock appeared serious and solemn, but John noticed the slight mischievous slant to his lips:

_"In your opinion, what would happen if I started to kiss you on the neck?"_

Panic flashed briefly in John’s eyes as he realized that Sherlock was taking way too much time to loosen a few simple buttons.

He looked into Sherlock’s cool blue-grey eyes and smiled, knowing that he would never do anything to ruin a moment so important to him. He was just having fun at the expense of his father and brother. In fact, at this exact moment a thought from Mycroft (who was holding firmly to the arms of his chair) made its way into both their minds:

_"Sherlock, if you do something stupid, I will personally come down there and remove your skin, centimeter by centimeter!_ "

_"I'd say you've got your response."_  John quipped to his friend.

Sherlock snorted mentally in the direction of his brother, _"The usual exaggerated bigotry."_

With the buttons unfastened, Sherlock removed John’s jacket and handed it to Gabriel who was waiting patiently beside his son. Then, taking from Regis a jacket in the blue and silver colors of the Hastur, Sherlock turned back to John, carefully helping him on with the jacket and fastening the buttons.

_"I’d much prefer you in a permanent state of undress,"_  he sighed tragically.

Demonstrating remarkable self-control, John was able to remain suitably impassive, as befitted the solemnity of the ceremony.

Sherlock returned to Regis’ side as the Regent declaimed loudly:  _"Comyn_  Lords of Darkover, may I present John Regis Winston Hastur, the Heir of Hastur."

The  _Comyn_  rose to their feet and began to applaud, signaling their acceptance of the new Heir.

\-------------------------

After the ceremony in the Council chambers, the Hastur, escorted by the rest of  _Comyn,_  headed to the balcony facing the town's main square.

A large crowd had gathered, curious to know what had happened during the Council’s sitting.

In a loud voice, Sherlock exclaimed:

"People of Darkover, I, Sherlock Lewis Holmes Alton, Commander of the City Watch of Thendara, present to you the Heir to the Regency of the Throne of Darkover - John Regis Winston Hastur."

John stepped forward as the crowd cried out as one, "Hastur! Hastur! Hastur! Hastur! "

\------------------------------------------

Blended amidst the cheering crowd were Terrans, who were curious about the outcome of the C _omyn_  Council session.

Charles Augustus Magnussen, a tall, thin middle aged man with grey hair brushed straight back from his face, watched the scene on the balcony with a total lack of interest.

"I do not understand why we are still here," he stated in a bored voice.

Phillip Anderson replied, annoyed: "You are studying telepaths. You see here before you all those you want to study. And while we are here, can you please tell me exactly what I am to do now that Sheldon’s plan to place House Aldaran in charge of the planet has failed?"

Before his companion could reply, the girl next to Anderson exclaimed in a low voice: "For Aldones! It can’t be possible!"

The two men turned toward her, intrigued.

"What’s the matter, Sara?" Anderson asked.

Sara was a lean woman of about twenty-five with the sweet features. Her hair was in a ponytail that covered her neck, like a real Darkovan woman.

"I _know_ that man and he should be dead."

"To which of the two are you referring?" asked Magnussen.

"John Regis Winston Hastur. He crashed into the Reichenbach Falls along with James Moriarty. "

"Are you sure?" asked Anderson.

"Of course I'm sure! I was there and I rescued your sniper after the ambush on the Alton failed. That blond man felt the presence of your army and saved Holmes’ life. Then James snatched his matrix and they fell into the waterfall. He _c_ _an’t_ still be alive. Unless ... "

Sara was staring at John with almost reverence, and the look was not lost on Magnussen.

"What is so special about the new heir?"

"If he _is_ the heir of Hastur and no longer has a matrix, that means he is endowed with the pure power of  the Hastur!"

Suddenly, Magnussen became interested. "You mean that man is a living matrix?"

"Yes," said Sara.

Magnussen's lips curled into a sly smile of satisfaction.

"You were right, Anderson. We were right to come here. We need to make sure it is true that this John Hastur is a living matrix. Why, if it is so, **_I want him_**. "

\-------------------------

While the people of Darkover hailed him, John withdrew unnerved, clenching his fists.

_"What am I doing?_   _These people have confidence in me._   _They believe in me and_   _I don’t measure up!_  "

Sherlock slipped his long fingers into John’s closed fist.

_"You are not alone, my Love._   _As Regis said previously, not for centuries have a Hastur and an Alton been born with pure power._   _Now there are two of us._   _We are not alone._   _We are together - a single soul!_  "

John turned to Sherlock: _"The soul of Darkover,"_  he said.

_"I will never leave you, I will always be by your side, ready to defend and to learn.”_  

Sherlock continued. “ _You are a just and honest man John. A man with a big heart and immense courage._   _Whatever situation you are placed in, you always know what to say and what to do._   _You will be a great ruler."_

With no more fear or doubt, holding the hand of Sherlock, John reached out and received the peoples acclaim with a smile.

The sky of Darkover was bluer than ever. The red sun was shining high in the sky and the translucent shapes of the four moons could be seen, benevolent spirits overseeing the future of the planet.

\-------------------------

To celebrate the proclamation of John as Hastur Heir, elaborate festivities had been planned, yet John and Sherlock took the opportunity to sneak from the party as soon as they could.

"Now that you are the appointed Heir, are you going to stay in this room or take the Heir’s apartment?" Sherlock asked.

John looked around. "This room is very quiet. I should ask Regis if I could remain here. "

Sherlock stared at him with a strange smile. "Well, now that’s settled, I think we should proceed."

John was undecided about whether he should be worried or excited at Sherlock’s expression.

"Proceed with what?" he asked innocently.

"This morning you made me a promise, remember?"

Sherlock's smile was downright devilish. John returned this look with one full of sweetness

"Oh." he said simply.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes with mock grim expression. "Are you ready, John Regis Winston Hastur?"

"Oh?" John repeated, tilting his head, eyes twinkling.

"You've asked for it," Sherlock said, his voice low and deep.

With two quick steps he approached John, grabbing him by the arm holding on to him tightly, while with the other hand he took his neck bring John’s face close to his.

Their first kiss was almost violent in its passion. The second was more tender.

John replied with both sweetness and passion, embracing Sherlock.

They broke away only to catch a breath. Sherlock leant his forehead against John’s.

"I still can’t believe you're here with me. If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up."

"It's not a dream. I am here and I’m not going anywhere," John whispered, caressing the Sherlock’s back.

Beltran’s sad look passed fleetingly across Sherlock’s mind.

He made a mental note to talk to the Keeper of Neskaya about the exact cause of what was worrying him, but for the moment he returned to focus on the eyes, lips and skin of John.

There would be time to speak with Beltran, for now he had to make up for a year’s worth of lost love.

 

**Author's Note:**

The adoption of a member of another family, and the ceremony of proclamation of the heir in the novels by Marion Zimmer Bradley does not happen as I have described them, but I felt it was more fun to see the mischief Sherlock causes for brother (and John) before the assembly.

It seemed very much in line with the irreverence of “Sherlock”.

I hope that the scene will have at least brought a smile to your face, so I won’t feel too guilty for having played with the work of a wonderful writer like Bradley.

 


	18. Planet Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are new enemies on the horizon, but old enemies can become valuable allies.

**[Chapter ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3906340/chapters/8742100)18 ** **:** **Planet Earth**

When Sherlock woke the next morning and discovered that Beltran had left to return to Neskaya, he assumed that he had misread the older Comyn’s expression at the ceremony and there was no reason to worry. He and John had been called to attend the meeting between Regis and Delegate Anderson, and he resolved to give that his full attention for now.

Phillip Anderson was ushered into the large room that served as the Regent’s office and despite his intention to look down upon the more ‘primitive’ Darkovans, he found himself impressed.

The office was the size of a small Audience Chamber with a very high vaulted ceiling. To his right was a large, open fireplace which warmed the room, and in front of him was a large table of dark wood, finely crafted with intricate carvings around the edges.

Seated at the center of the table on a high-backed chair was the Regent, Regis Hastur. To his left sat Caryl Hastur, while the new Heir, John, was sitting to his right. Standing, behind John, was Sherlock Holmes Alton.

Anderson was accompanied by an aide.

"Good morning, Lord Hastur, thank you for the opportunity to meet with you. Please allow me to introduce my assistant, Sara Sawyer. "

Regis politely nodded his head in acknowledgement, but immediately lost interest in the girl.

"Yesterday you told us that you have sent Sheldon back to Earth. Did you do this because he plotted against Darkover, or because being discovered resulted in the failure of his mission to overthrow the Regency?"

Anderson smiled serenely.

"Straight to the point!” he stated in an affable tone of voice. “Lord Hastur, I can assure you that the Earth is not plotting against Darkover."

"That's not what Aldaran told us," Caryl interjected, his voice hard.

Anderson did not appear troubled. "Sheldon made the Aldaran believe that the Earth approved of his plan, but ..."

"Do you think we are stupid simply because we do not own your technology and weaponry?" Sherlock interrupted him furiously.

The Terran look stunned at the young man’s vehemence.

"It does not take a genius to know you are lying! It is obvious that Earth was aware of Sheldon’s actions, so now, because your plot has failed, you're using him as a convenient scapegoat!"

Anderson was on his feet. "How dare you ..."

"She is Darkovan!" John exclaimed in surprise.

The discussion between Sherlock and Anderson broke off abruptly as everyone in the room turned to look at John.

"She is Darkovan and she is analyzing me with a matrix!" he added coldly.

Sherlock’s hand automatically went to the hilt of his sword, while the eyes of the Hastur turned on girl.

"Who are you?" demanded Regis.

Now that she had been discovered there was no point in denying the accusation.

"My name is Sara Lynnea Sawyer Rockraven."

"Why were you analyzing the Heir?" Sherlock demanded.

"That’s enough!” interjected Anderson. “We did not agree to come here for you to interrogate us!"

“And yet you feel it is within your rights to subject the Hastur Heir to an unsanctioned matrix examination?” Caryl snarled.

Sherlock jumped forward to attack Anderson, but John stopped him. “No, Sherlock. Leave it.”

The Terran delegate took Sarah by the arm, pulling her from her seat. "Obviously now is not a good time. We will return when you want to talk, not to falsely accuse us."

And before anyone else could move to stop them, Anderson and Sara swiftly made their way from the chamber.

\-------------------------------

Sherlock was furious.

"Why did you let them go? They should have been questioned further!"

"We can’t come into direct conflict with the Terran representative without firm evidence to back us up," Regis explained patiently.

"They are the ones who act behind our backs!” Sherlock protested. “We cannot continue to allow them to do whatever they want! We must make them understand that we are more than capable of defending  ourselves from them, that we are not as helpless as they think. "

"What would you have us do, Holmes?” asked Caryl harshly, “Recover one of the old matrix weapons and attack the Terrani base? "

"Why not?” Sherlock replied, “If this would mean we’d be free from their machinations, we should do it! They are the ones who are trying to use the Matrices as weapons arrays! We must not tolerate this ongoing Terrani meddling. They have the mistaken belief that we are backward and uncivilized because we do not have their technology. Let's show them that in reality, we are much more advanced and wiser than they are!"

Regis shook his head.

"You are young, Sherlock, and you think that an act of force will put things right, but it won’t. If we were to demonstrate to the Terrans what a matrix can actually do, they would redouble their efforts and never cease their quest for Matrix weaponry. With their weapons and lack of scruples, they would annihilate us! "

"The matrix ..." Sherlock persisted.

"If we use arrays to stop them, we will be the cause of our own destruction. When our ancestors realised that they had built weapons capable of destroying the planet, they were wise enough to stop. We can do no less."

As Sherlock drew a deep breath to continue his argument John grasped his arm to stop him. "Sherlock, enough," he said softly.

Sherlock stared into John’s blue eyes, begging him to understand. "They are **WRONG** ," he asserted, before turning and striding from the room.

John watched him leave, turning to his father and grandfather.

"He's worried because the Darkovan girl was analyzing me,” he said with a sigh. “He fears this could put me in danger."

Regis smiled. "He is doing his duty as Commander of the City Guards and bodyguard of the Heir. I can appreciate his point of view. Don’t believe that we have not thought about using one of the old arrays against the Terrani. But they have powerful weapons and too many people at their disposal. We cannot be sure that if pressed they wouldn’t destroy us completely rather than lose."

John nodded. "I agree that it would be a mistake to use the large arrays. Some of them are so powerful that even we cannot hope to stop them."

"You should visit Armida” Regis proposed. “You’ve only just reunited after Sherlock spent a year thinking you were dead. Perhaps a little time alone, just the two of you, would calm him. Also, you are yet to meet your son. A short break would allow you to get to know him. What do you think?"

John smiled grateful, "I think it's an excellent idea, father. I'll talk to Sherlock and let you know when we will leave."

\-------------------------------

John found Sherlock in the main courtyard, arguing with his brother.

"You are in Thendara and the Commander of the Guard!” - Mycroft was saying an angry tone, “You can’t just blurt out everything that comes into your mind!"

"I do not see why not!” Sherlock replied, “I don’t care a thing about your political intrigue or your machinations ... "

"Good morning Mycroft,” John interjected before Sherlock could truly infuriating to his brother. “You’re looking well.” 

Turning to Sherlock he said “I spoke to my father and he’s decided I need a break before I get into the hard work of ‘on-the-job’ training. So, how would you like to go to Armida? I'd like to get to know my son. "

"Good idea," Sherlock said and promptly began to look around for someone.

"Lestrade!" he yelled.

Greg Lestrade walked over to the three men, greeting them with a deep bow.

"Prepare the men. In two hours we leave for Armida."

John stared at him in bemusement. "Two hours? Sherlock ... "

"In . two . hours." Sherlock repeated firmly.

John did not want to argue in front of the others. It was obvious that Sherlock was very anxious, and he refused to do anything to aggravate the situation.

"Fine. In two hours then," he agreed.

Sherlock smiled, satisfied.

\-------------------------------

Anderson and Sara had returned to the Terran land base to find Magnussen waiting for them.

"So? Is it as you thought? The man is a living matrix? "

Sara seemed reluctant to answer. "I couldn’t analyze him very well. We were interrupted almost immediately. "

Anderson turned to her amazed, "He heard you!” he said. “It’s obvious that he felt you analyzing him!"

"Yes, but I didn’t have time to complete my evaluation."

"But he is the man from whom Moriarty snatched the matrix, and who fell into the waterfall. You said you saw it! "- insisted Magnussen.

"We were far away ..."

Sara could not say more because Magnussen grabbed her arm tightly. "Why are you lying? What have they promised you?"

"Charles ..." Anderson tried to intervene, but Magnussen ignored him.

"Answer!” he hissed. “Have you decided to betray us? Do you think you can return to them, that if you revealed our plan they will teach you how to be a proper telepath?"

"If he really has the Hastur’s pure power, he would be unique!” Sara said, tugging her arm free abruptly, “It wouldn’t be possible to use him. He wouldn’t be a telepath like everyone else; he’d be useless for your experiments!"

"Not at all - just the opposite, in fact,” corrected Magnussen. “He could be the missing piece I need to understand how your  _L_ _aran_ actually works _._  A person who doesn’t need a matrix would definitely be of assistance in finding out how to identify areas of land suitable for the use of arrays. And when we find that, we will be able to search more precisely for your weapons from the wars of Chaos, such as the Sword of Aldones or Sharra."

Sara shivered involuntarily: "Sharra and the Sword were destroyed." she protested angrily.

Magnussen made a smiled slyly: "Your books contradict you, my dear. Their words tell of how the weapons were _hidden,_ not destroyed. I will find them and I will learn how to use them. Decide whose side you are on now, before it is too late. "

With this threat, Magnussen walked away, followed by Anderson, leaving Sara with a dread that settled deep in her stomach. She could not allow them to capture John Hastur.

She had to stop them.

She had to warn the  _Comyn_  of danger they faced.

And she just hoped that she would be heard.

 

\-------------------------------

Once they had left Thendara Sherlock was more relaxed. All the tension and anxiety that John had sensed in him, appeared to be left behind.

The spring day was beautiful and John had enjoyed the ride, especially as he had followed the Hastur’s instructions and remained in his room from the time of his arrival in Thendara.

They called a halt to their travels as the evening started to fall. The sky was free of clouds and all four moons shone bright. The temperature was pleasant and seeing Sherlock so calm made John happy.

They had not talked about how Holmes had spent the year in which he had believed John dead, but it must have been terrible and John could not begin to imagine what Sherlock had suffered.

While Sherlock was giving orders to his men to prepare the field, John approached Lestrade, who made a formal bow:

"Lord John,” he said with a smart salute, stumbling back a step in surprise as Hastur hugged him.

John smiled brightly as he released Lestrade; "Just because I changed my name, it doesn’t mean that _I_ have changed. I won’t forget those who were my friends _before_ I was the Hastur heir! Feel free to keep calling me John in private."

Lestrade commented, "There will be times when it won’t be appropriate to address you by your given name."

John gave a nodded. "True. It would not be appropriate in Thendara; but here we are outdoors, and in Armida would just feel weird if you called me ‘Lord John’!” Hastur said. “So, you are henceforth authorized to be formal in Thendara, but elsewhere I am and will always be only John."

"Thank you, John."

Sherlock was not far away and smiled as he observed the exchange between the two men. He was happy that John had not changed, even though he was now one of the most powerful men on the planet.

He was somewhat lost in his thoughts when he noticed John suddenly become tense.

"There’s someone here," said Hastur.

Sherlock and the guards drew their swords as from the depths of the forest emerged a dozen men dressed in simple but heavy clothes. 

John recognized a few of them and called out: "Sebastian, show yourself!"

"Little John,” came a voice from the darkness, “If I had known I was holding no less than the heir of Hastur, I would not have let you go so easily."

Sebastian Dyan Moran Ardais emerged from the thicket, grinning.

"You certainly keep your secrets well!” he continued, “Even though I already knew you were special from our first meeting.”

He turned to Holmes; “Hello Sherlock, how are you? Fitter than I remember. I imagine that you were very happy to see John again."

Sherlock didn’t answer. He remained pointing his sword towards Sebastian.

The men of Armida and the men of Ardais were ready to fight.

 

\-------------------------------

Sara Sawyer Rockraven tried to leave the land base, but the gate was barred to those wanting to leave.

"Why can’t I go to town?” she asked. “We often go there to gather news."

The guard shrugged:

"These orders were received directly from delegate Anderson. No Darkovan is to leave the base until he returns."

Sara winced, worried at the implications.  "Where did he go?" she asked.

"It’s not like he’d tell **_me_ ** is it?! snapped the guard, irritated. “Now go away, you're blocking the line."

Sara gave up and returned to her rooms, wondering how to warn the Hasturs of the danger to his new heir.

 

\----------------------------

Mike Stamford Ardais was another young Darkovan from the Hellers, so it was natural that he too would work at the Terran base.

His jobs were low-level, but it allowed him the run of most of the base without anyone suspecting that he was gathering information on the Terrani activities for Sebastian Moran.

To find out what the Terrani were plotting, Mike had no remorse in breaking the cardinal rule of telepaths – not to intrude in the minds of the unsuspecting people around him – either to read their thoughts or to plant them.

Having witnessed Sara fail to leave and picking up on her anxiety, the man had introduced into her  thoughts the need to warn Sebastian of the danger to the Hastur heir.

 

\-------------------------------

“Hello Sherlock, how are you? Fitter than I remember. I imagine that you were very happy to see John again."

Moran’s words, uttered in a slightly sarcastic tone, echoed in Sherlock’s head. This was the man who had dared to touch his John. His grip on the hilt of his sword tightened involuntarily.

John interposed himself between Sherlock and Sebastian, restraining Holmes’ sword arm.

"I order you to sheath your weapons! These men are here to talk. The first man to raise a hand will answer directly to me! Am I clear?"

As he completed the sentence he turned to Sherlock, intercepting an angry look. But although he was angry, Sherlock couldn’t allow himself to undermine John’s authority.

With a gesture of annoyance, he sheathed his sword and reluctantly removed his hand from the hilt.

Both the men of Armida and those of Moran Ardais followed his example.

Sebastian grinned. "You have become autocratic, little John. A real Hastur! Anyway, I like you too well to let that bother me."

"Say what you came to say and go," Sherlock hissed.

Sebastian narrowed his eyes, staring at Holmes.

"He knows!” he whispered in surprise, turning to Hastur. “You do like living dangerously, don’t you little John?"

Feeling that Sherlock was about to explode, John moves further between the two men:

"What did you want?" he demanded.

"Right. Straight to the point, as ever. Well, I’ve uncovered information that the Terrani are searching for the ancient matrix weapons."

"We know,” Sherlock interrupted. “If you have nothing else to say, get out!"

"No,” John intervened, “you didn’t come here just to tell us that. You are worried about something."

Sebastian's eyes were fixed on John and the Hastur could see the battle that was being fought inside him. Moran still loved James but felt betrayed by him and didn’t approve of his plans.

John moved closer to Sebastian, deliberately ignoring the groan of protest from Sherlock.

"Sebastian, what's bothering you?" he asked softly.

"My sources  say the Terrani are close to recovering ‘Sharra’ from the People of the Forge," he replied.

"That’s not possible,” Sherlock retorted scornfully. “Sharra was destroyed centuries ago."

"Are you so sure Holmes?” Sebastian countered with the same tone, “Do you really want to risk the safety  of Darkover by believing the legends handed down to us are completely true? If they are, why didn’t the old guardians of the Age of Chaos just say they destroyed them?  What if they have just been hidden? If only half of what is said about those matrices is true, there may not be a way to destroy them!"

"If **_we_** don’t know where they are, how can the Terrans?" Sherlock asked ironically.

"The Aldaran provided the Terrani with ancient texts speaking of the old matrices. Based on what they contain, the Terrani  could potentially discover where weapons such as Sharra were hidden."

"Thank you for the information, Sebastian,” John said. “Can you help us find out whether the Terrani actually have that information and help us stop them?"

Sebastian let out a strangled laugh: "Little John, I'm an outlaw! It’s not my job to save Darkover. That's why I came to you, because playing the ‘heroes’ is up to you and Sherlock. I have given you the information so that you can find a solution."

"You're wrong, Sebastian,” John said in a quiet tone. ”If the Terrani find those matrices, it won’t just be a problem for the _Comyn._  If the Terrani lose control of _any_ matrix, it would destroy not only the  _Comyn,_  but all the inhabitants of the planet. And _that's_ why you're here, because you are aware of that and you're scared. You want to stop them, but because of your past you doubt yourself."

John moved towards Moran. He could feel the jealousy and worry grow in Sherlock, but John knew he had to convince Sebastian to permanently switch to their side.

"You have to stop using your past as an excuse for your inaction If you really want to redeem yourself, help us stop the Terrans! You have contacts who would never speak to the _Comyn_. To save Darkover we need everyone, whether noble, outlaw or ordinary baker! Darkover does not care about the past of those who wish to save it from destruction!"

John and Sebastian stared each other in the eyes for a period of time which seemed endless to Sherlock.

With a nervous laugh, Moran looked down. "You're good with words, little John. As I said before, a real Hastur."

He raised his eyes to John again with a mischievous smile that bothered Sherlock.

"I'll make you a deal. I will help in this venture against Terrani and you make sure I don’t end up in Thendara prison! Agreed, Hastur? "

"Agreed," John replied.

Before anyone else could move Sebastian reached over, grabbing John’s neck and pulling him forward, bringing their lips together.

"Really, Sebastian?” John asked calmly, pulling his lips away, “You really want to mess up a good agreement for us all just to annoy Sherlock? For what? You've already got what you wanted. "

Sebastian released him, laughing. “I guarantee you it was worth it, little John, to see the current expression on Sherlock’s face!”

John stared disapprovingly at Sebastian, who raised his hands in surrender; "Okay, you're right. I acted childishly. I apologize. Do we still have our deal?"

"We have our deal," John assured him.

"Perfect. I'll try to find out what the Terrans know and pass it on to you. You are going to Armida, right? "

"Yes," John confirmed.

"Well Bon Voyage, little John. It was a pleasure seeing you again.” 

He craned his neck to look at Sherlock. “It was nice to see you too, Sherlock. Take care of the heir, I mean it."

Then he left and seconds later, he and his men were swallowed up by the forest.

John looked at a furious Sherlock, who turned his back to the Hastur and headed for his sleeping bag without saying a word.

John sighed. His holiday in Armida was going to be very much less pleasant than he had hoped!

\-------------------------------


	19. Candle in the Wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arguing only encourages opponents.  
> And it stands to lose the most important thing that you have in the world.

****

**[Chapter ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3906340/chapters/8742100)19 ** **: Candle in the Wind**

The next morning, Sherlock had still not recovered from his anger, so John decided to ride alongside Lestrade. 

 

They were silent for a long time, when John said: "He is upset about the kiss Moran gave me. He won’t understand that I didn’t respond. And even if he did understand, he thinks I like Moran.”

 

He sighed before continuing, “Moran's men saved my life by pulling me out of that river, and he took care of me when I needed it. We spent a night together.”

 

At Lestrade’s shocked expression he replied sharply, “Of course I told Sherlock! I could never keep such a thing a secret from him! Not just because he would find out anyway, but because I want no more secrets in our relationship.”

 

As Lestrade opened his mouth to comment, John continued; “Yes, our relationship! I talked a lot with my father Regis and nobody has anything to object about, after all we are both Tower trained and the top of our area of expertise. Certainly, they want both of the legal heirs to our families to have offspring, but as we both have children now, no one can object that Sherlock and I will finally be together."

 

John abruptly turned towards Lestrade, surprised. 

 

He blushed slightly and looked down: "I’m sorry Greg, I realized that you didn’t say anything verbally, but you were thinking something quite loudly."

 

Lestrade laughed: "You're definitely a Hastur!” he replied. “I had heard that those who are endowed with the purest strain of Hastur  _Laran_  are much more sensitive and perceptive than other telepaths. But still, you are much more powerful than any  _Comyn_  I have known!”

 

He paused briefly. “Sherlock suffered a lot, thinking you were dead, you wouldn’t have recognized him. No one could get close to him and he was completely unpredictable. He was angry with the whole world. There were times when I thought he would do something completely foolish. "

 

John stared at Sherlock’s stiff form riding ahead of them. "I am so very sorry for the anguish I caused him and for what you all had to endure."

 

"It is in the past now. You are here and safe, and that’s the only thing that matters. As for the kiss yesterday,” Greg smiled amused, “I wouldn’t worry too much. Jealousy is a difficult feeling to manage even for ordinary people. For him, it is pure torment! Maybe you should just have a good argument - get it all out in the open - he loves you too much to hold a grudge for too long."

 

John sighed. "I hope you're right."

 

\------------------------------------

 

They arrived in Armida in the late afternoon.

 

Anthea was at the main entrance and greeted them with a big smile. "Lord John, it is a pleasure to see you again."

 

John smiled: _"_ Lady Anthea the pleasure is mine.  Although some things have changed, you have no need to be so formal. "

 

"Oh, **_do_** tell him yes, he is always so **_agreeable_** with everyone," Sherlock commented in an acid tone of voice.

 

Anthea's smile slipped a little, as she struggled to understand why her brother-in-law was so angry.

 

She looked back at John. "It will be an honour to address you informally,” she said, adding hesitantly, “Should I prepare the guest room, or will you be staying in Sherlock’s quarters?"

 

"Oh he’ll definitely prefer the guest chambers! That way he can receive Moran Ardais in private when he comes to report on what he has discovered of the Terrani plans!” retorted a furious Sherlock. “Moran will receive his reward, and it wouldn’t do to be intimate with him in **_my_** room, would it John?"

 

Lestrade, entering the lobby to ask John for instructions on what to do if one of Moran’s men got in contact, saw John heave a big sigh.

 

“Just my luck!” Greg thought, regretting his entry during the outburst; but it was too late for him to leave without anyone noticing.

 

"I suppose it serves no purpose to say that I did not respond to the kiss, right?" John asked flatly.

 

Sherlock turned to John: "I don’t care that you didn’t respond. You also didn’t reject it!" yelled Sherlock.

 

"What was I supposed to do, in your opinion?” John enquired in a reasonable voice, “Should I have punched him? Why? So it would prevent a completely unhelpful future fight with you? You know yourself we need Sebastian’s help to stop the Terrani."

 

"Oh, of course!” Sherlock replied angrily, “And to seal your deal you could go back to the woods with him and re-enact your fantastic night! If it **_was_** just the once!"

 

John’s face grew red with anger.

 

"Enough!” he hissed furiously. “I understand that you feel betrayed, disappointed and angry, but you've crossed the line! I am not going to continue this discussion with you, until you've managed to gain control of your jealousy! When you wish to continue this discussion as a rational adult, let me know and then we can talk about it! "

 

Sherlock gasped, staring at John incredulously.

 

John turned to Anthea: "Lady Anthea, I apologize for the scene,” he said in a strained voice. “I think it would be better if I slept in the guest bedroom.  I hope it would not be too much trouble to ask to have dinner in the room?"

 

"Absolutely no trouble at all!”  Anthea assured him. “I’ve assigned you the Red Room in the South Tower."

 

"You are going to just leave it at that?" Sherlock asked, aghast.

 

John looked at him straight in the eye.

 

"This is not a discussion,” he said angrily. “It is a fit of pique and jealousy on your part that I WILL NOT tolerate. When you decide you want to talk rationally instead of insulting me, we can address the issue of Sebastian and his cooperation. And we can also discuss that night, if you want. However, if you choose not to believe what I say and you no longer trust me, I don’t see that we have much left to talk about!"

 

John nodded to Anthea and Greg, spun about and headed toward the south tower. Sherlock, unable to argue, avoided the gaze of Anthea and Lestrade, retreating to his room.

 

There was silence in the hall.

 

"Did we just see what I think we saw?" asked Anthea, startled.

 

"It seems so. I believe Lord John has just rendered Lord Sherlock completely silent!" Lestrade said incredulously.

 

They exchanged an amused smile. It was going to be an interesting vacation.

 

\------------------------------------

 

Sherlock could not believe what had just happened. John had refused to talk to him!

 

After HE had received that kiss from Sebastian Moran!

 

How should he have reacted? Should he be glad Moran had kissed John? Should he be grateful for the fact that John had not responded to the kiss?

 

Jealousy!

 

What rubbish! Why would he be jealous?

 

Over what?  A kiss?

 

YET JOHN DARED TO BE OFFENDED, AFTER _HE_ SPENT A NIGHT FLIRTING WITH MORAN?

 

Sherlock froze halfway across the room.

 

There it was.

 

John was right. That _was_ what was bothering him.

 

Not the kiss. Not working with Moran. The night John had spent with Sebastian.

 

He had pretended to accept that it had happened. He had pretended to understand why it had happened. The reality was that it had hurt him and he was annoyed.

 

When he thought of John with Moran he felt a huge weight in the pit of the stomach.

 

It was for this reason that they should talk.

 

Moran had kissed John because he knew that Sherlock knew about their night.

 

What was he scared about?

 

That John would end up preferring Sebastian Moran to him?

 

That John would fall in love with Sebastian Moran?

 

That John would leave him for Sebastian Moran? Why would he do that?

John loved _him,_ not Moran.

 

He had told him so. He had shown him.

 

So why had he betrayed him?

 

Sherlock found himself staring at the courtyard from one of the windows of his room.

 

From the time he had first gotten to know John as a child, he’d had an irrational fear that John would leave him.

 

Their relationship had always been unique and extraordinary; something so special that he was afraid of not deserving or being worthy of it.

 

He loved John. And he wanted him in his life forever.

 

 _Despite_ the night with Sebastian Moran.

 

It wouldn’t be easy, but he really had to try to understand why John had made love to Moran.

 

He would try to get over it.

 

He took a deep breath and walked directly to the Red Chamber.

 

He felt ready to talk calmly with John, without being overwhelmed by either the fear of losing him or jealousy for Sebastian Moran.

 

If loving meant running the risk of suffering, for John he could bear it. He knew what life was like without John and if that was the alternative, he no longer wanted to live.

 

Together, they were able to face and overcome any problem life threw at them, and Sebastian Moran would not be the exception to that rule.

 

Arriving at the door of the Red Room he knocked lightly on the door, but there was no answer.

 

He knocked again a little harder. Still no response.

 

Sherlock wondered if John was so angry with him that he was deliberately refusing to respond.

 

"John, I’m outside your door. I apologise for being so aggressive with you. Can I come in?"

 

Having received no answer yet, he opened the door and entered the room.

 

John was not there.

 

Wondering where he might have gone, he searched for him telepathically:

 

 _"John?_   _Where are you?_   _I would like to talk to you."_

 

Still nothing.

 

Sherlock began to grow impatient. If HE was the child, what did that make John if he wouldn’t answer?

 

Determined not to be put off, Sherlock tried again: _"John, please, tell me where you are._   _I have not come to fight."_

 

He glanced around the room. John had put his luggage on the bed, but he hadn’t unpacked as yet.

 

It occurred to him that one of the reasons they had returned to Armida, was so John could finally meet his son.

 

Sherlock started for the nursery.

 

 _"I know you are with your son._   _Wait there, I’m on my way._ “

 

After a moment he added, in a gentler tone – “ _Please!"_

 

In a few minutes he reached the nursery, finding only Anthea present.

 

"Have you seen John?" Sherlock asked, looking around.

 

"Yes” she answered, “he was here about twenty minutes ago. His son was sleeping, so he asked where Mary was buried, as he wanted to take her flowers. I explained where to find her grave and he left."

 

Sherlock looked at her, feeling a shiver down his spine.

 

"He went there alone?"

 

He began to feel a sort of panic growing inside him.

 

"I do not know,” Anthea admitted. “He may have asked Lestrade to accompany him."

 

Sherlock rushed to the courtyard. _"John, please tell me you're at Mary’s grave with Lestrade!"_

 

The more prolonged the silence from John, more anxious Sherlock became.

 

Once in the main courtyard, he immediately noticed Lestrade giving instructions to the men on guard duty.

 

"Lestrade!” he screamed, “Who escorted John to Mary’s grave? "

 

The commander of the guards turned, puzzled. "I haven’t seen Lord John since the altercation in the entrance hall. I thought he was in his room."

 

Sherlock had reached Lestrade. "He’s not in his room. He went to the nursery and Anthea explained to him where Mary was buried. Can he be leave Armida without anyone noticing? "

 

"Lord John knows the castle,” Lestrade replied. “From the nursery it is possible he could have gone directly to the lake via the west tower."

 

Sherlock grabbed a horse and vaulted into the saddle, taking off at a gallop.

 

Lestrade began screaming orders, and within minutes he and several of the other men had followed Holmes.

 

The pond was not far from the castle and was easily reached on foot.

 

Sherlock never stopped talking to John, but he realized he could not perceive his presence.

 

 _"If you can hear me John, do not move from the pond._   _Wait for me, I'm coming._   _Why did you leave the castle without an escort!_   _For Aldones sake, John!_   _You are the heir of Hastur! You’re not a Squire anymore!"_

 

He arrived quickly within view of the pond, but could see no-one.

 

He stopped trying to telepathically reach his partner and began calling to him loudly.

 

At the lack of response, Sherlock dismounted in a panic and approached the grave. There were visible traces of blood near the headstone, the flowers John had collected were scattered on the ground, and the grass was trampled as if there had been several other people present.

 

Lestrade and his men galloped into the clearing.

 

"No! Not here you’ll destroy the evidence!” he shouted angrily. “Search for Lord John and those who abducted him! They cannot be far away!"

 

The bodyguards scattered quickly, but found no one.

 

"Which way did they go?" Sherlock asked one of the soldiers who was also one of Armida’s best guides.

 

"They appear to be headed for Hellers, but it is possible that they could fall back to Thendara or another destination once they reached the northern woods," replied the man.

 

"Head back to the castle. We will need more men and supplies if we are to catch them."

 

\------------------------------------

 

Within half an hour they were in hot pursuit of the kidnappers.

 

The guide followed the trail up to the forest, then stopped to analyse the tracks, confused.

 

"They’ve split up,” he said. “One group is moving towards Hellers, while the other has turned in the direction of Thendara. It’s impossible to know which group has Lord John."

 

Sherlock was worried and frustrated.

 

"Fine! Then we’ll split too. Lestrade, you take your group toward Thendara, I’ll go to Hellers. If there are any developments, keep in touch via the falcons. The group that finds John will immediately inform the other, but continue to follow the kidnappers without interfering. The heir's life must not be put in danger, am I understood?"

 

"Yes, Lord Sherlock."

 

Sherlock tried once more to talk with John, but there was still no reply. He had to be unconscious because he could not be felt through their link.

 

Whoever had kidnapped John had no reason to hurt him, or they could have just killed him at Mary’s grave.

 

Sherlock wondered for a moment if Moran had kidnapped him, but his rational side told him that Sebastian had no logical reason to do so.

 

They were riding for about an hour when the guide stopped his horse and dropped down to check the tracks.

 

A few moments later, he turned to Sherlock, his face tense.

 

"My Lord, I’ve lost the tracks, he informed his Lord.  “From this point it is impossible to know in which direction they went."

 

Sherlock dismounted and looked around.

 

He decided to play his last card: _"Moran!_   _I know you're around._   _Bring back John!_ "

 

It took around fifteen minutes before anything happened. Sherlock was about to give up, when he heard something moving in the undergrowth.

 

He and his men drew their weapons.

 

"I am alone and unarmed,” Sebastian Moran announced to the waiting Altons. “I'm going to come out now."

 

Sherlock mentally checked the area for other presences, but there were none of Moran’s men in the vicinity.

 

Moran appeared in the clearing, his arms raised and a worried expression on his face.

 

"I haven’t got John. I would never hurt him!” Moran said. “I have a spy in the Terrani base in Thendara. He informed me that a Terrani doctor there is interested in John’s manifestation of the Hastur _Laran_. I was heading to Armida to warn you, but from what I can see, I’ve arrived too late."

 

Sherlock studied him for a long time to try to determine if he was lying. To his disappointment, he was forced to conclude that not only was Moran was telling the truth, but he was also genuinely concerned about John.

 

As Sherlock remained silent, Sebastian added, "I set my men to hunt for any Terrani in Hellers. If you follow me to my base camp, we can see if they have found anything. I know that my word is not worth anything to you, but I swear this is not a trap.  I want to protect John as much as you."

 

Sherlock finally answered, "I believe you. Let's go."

 

Sherlock was quiet throughout the journey to the base camp, and Moran respected his silence.

 

Once they reached the camp, they found it in turmoil. Moran's men had captured some Terrans and were moving them to a secure location to await their leader’s return.

 

When they saw their boss returning with an escort of Alton guards, the outlaws became tense, drawing  their weapons and carefully watching the movements of the new arrivals.

 

Moran dismounted: "Where did you find them?" he asked one of his lieutenants.

 

"They were heading through the woods, towards the lands of Aldaran. We politely asked them why they were trespassing, but these Terrans don’t know their manners and refused to answer."

 

At the lieutenant’s response, Moran’s men burst out laughing.

"They will talk to me," said Sherlock coldly, passing Moran and heading straight towards the prisoners.

 

The laughter stopped abruptly, and the outlaws moved away, making room for Holmes.

 

Without even extracting his matrix, Sherlock stared at one of the Terrans as he tried to enter his mind.

 

The man squirmed, starting to feel as if something was borrowing into his brain, and he cried out loud.

 

Sherlock did not stop and continued to impose his will upon the man. "Tell me, where is the heir of Hastur?"

 

"They're taking him to the base at Thendara," replied the man, writhing in pain.

 

"Is he all right?" Sherlock asked again.

 

"He tried to resist and we had to quell him. He only has a slight wound."

 

"Why did you separate?"

 

"We were to meet with the team who stole a matrix from the People of the Forge, and bring it to Thendara. I beg you, just… Stop! Whatever you're doing to me, please stop. Please!!"

 

The man was sobbing as the pain in his head grew unbearable.

 

"Where were you to meet and when?" Sherlock asked, ignoring the entreaties of Terran.

 

The man did not answer, but fell back on the ground, eyes wide and with blood dripping from his nose.

 

Sherlock, without showing the slightest bit of remorse, turned to the next Terran in line.

 

The man pleaded, terrified: "I don’t know what you’ve done, but I will answer all your questions. Please don’t hurt me!"

 

Cold eyes stared at him with no emotion.

 

"I will know if you're lying” Sherlock said in a cold voice, “and if you try to trick me, you will not get the chance to regret it, I will reduce you to the same state as your accomplice, but much more painfully!"

 

"We are to meet tomorrow morning at dawn at the ruins of Hali," panted the Terran.

 

Sherlock turned to his men. "Send a falcon to Lestrade and tell him that he is to keep following the kidnappers. We will reach them as soon as possible. "

 

"We should go to Hali," Moran said in disagreement.

 

Sherlock turned slowly toward Sebastian, looking suspicious. "That would be a waste of time. We must save John."

 

"You already have men on his trail,” Moran said, “If the Terrans have truly recovered a matrix from the People of the Forge it can only be ‘Sharra’. Do you have any idea of the damage they could do if they activate it? John would not want a matrix so dangerous to fall into irresponsible and immoral hands!"

 

Sherlock’s eyes flashed furiously. "Don’t you DARE bring John into this argument between us," he hissed at the Ardais in a low, deep voice.

 

"John is always between us, don’t you think?” Sebastian asked, have nothing to fear. “We are both thinking of him, not each other."

 

The two men stared at each other for a few minutes, the tension palpable.

 

Sherlock thought for a long time, but he knew that Moran was right. John would want ‘Sharra’ recovered.

 

"All right,” he said finally, “it is not a major change to our plans. We will recover Sharra, then head to Thendara."

 

"I wish you would accept my help,” added Moran. “I want to help because John was right - the Terrani are a danger to all the people of Darkover, not just the  _Comyn._ "

 

Sherlock hesitated, then stretched his hand to Moran, who stared in surprise before taking it and giving a firm shake.

 

"For John." Moran said.

 

"For John." Sherlock agreed.

 

The two men shook hands, two strange and unlikely allies, united by the desire to save the person they held dearest in the world.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 


	20. Somebody that I used to Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strange allies seek to prevent a matrix dangerous to fall into the wrong hands.  
> While the heir to Hastur must fight against an ancient enemy and dangerous.

** [Chapter ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3906340/chapters/8742100) ** **20 – Somebody that I used to Know**

 

 

 

There was nothing familiar about the room in which John woke up. The whole environment was alien.

 

The walls were white, which made the surroundings cold and impersonal and the lights were so strong, that they really bothered his eyes.

 

He could hear people moving around him and strange metallic sounds that he could not identify.

 

He couldn’t remember a thing of how he came to be in this room. He didn’t even know how much time had elapsed.

 

The last thing he remembered was arriving at Mary’s graveside, then he felt something sting his neck and had been tackled to the ground by a few men. He’d struggled, but felt weak and had not been able to resist for long.

 

While surveying his surrounds, he attempted to send a telepathic message to Sherlock, until he realized that the noise he could hear was not natural, nor was it Terran technology, but actually a fully functioning _Laran_ dampener _._

 

A man in green scrubs with a face mask approached John.

 

"Welcome back from the dream world, John,” he said in a mellifluous voice, “How are you feeling?"

 

"Where am I?” John asked groggily, “And who are you?"

 

The man wore glasses, but John saw the eyes behind the lenses did not show any trace of the smile he wore on his face.

 

"You don’t know who I am or where you are? You disappoint me. People have talked of you as if you were a god on earth, and yet you do not know these little things?"

 

John realizedhe was tied securely to a cot and he felt something attached to both his head and his arms. He decided not to use his  _Laran_  because he understood that the Terrani wanted to study how it worked, so he closed his mind and acted as if he had no power.

 

After all, he had done the same for most of his life, fooling people both politically powerful and expert telepaths.

 

"I don’t see how I could find out who you are and where you have me," he replied coldly.

 

He heard a woman's voice coming from somewhere in the room, "Dr. Magnussen, there is no trace of the strange mental activity we detected earlier."

 

The man who was talking to John took his mask off his face and smiled, satisfied.

 

"Really? All right then.” Magnussen turned back to John, “I know you've done something, but I do not know what. So, my dear John, you have two options: either cooperate with us and we will try to make sure you get hurt as little as possible, or if you don’t cooperate, then I shall make sure you suffer a lot.” 

 

He paused before adding, “Actually, you will be in utter agony for as long as I require it."

 

John stared coldly into his eyes.

 

"I’ll leave you the night to think about it, my dear John. Do make a wise choice. "

 

The lights were turned off and John was left alone in the cold, sterile room. He already knew what his decision would be.

 

\--------------------------------------------

 

It was dark, and dawn was still far away when Sherlock and Moran left the outlaw camp with a chosen group of their men for the Tower of Hali. They each rode with their own personal escort.

 

After a while, Moran rode up to join Sherlock.

 

"I think we should talk," he began with a smile.

 

Sherlock did not even turn to look at him.

 

"When we get to Hali, we will evaluate the situation and make a plan. For now, we have nothing to say to each other."

 

Moran was not deterred. "What about John?" he asked in a neutral tone.

 

Sherlock glared at him, "Concerning him, we have even less to talk about."

 

Sebastian smiled, "I would say that it is just the opposite. As I told you last night, John is the tie that binds us. He's the reason we're both here."

 

Moran could feel Sherlock’s anger, but he was determined continue with what he had to say.

 

"John is a special person and not just for his power. He is a man who deserves to be loved, and he has chosen you to share his life. And so you are deeply envious of anyone who threatens your position as his chosen."

 

He stopped waiting for a comment from Sherlock, which never came.

 

Moran, then continued. "I want to talk about that night ..."

 

Sherlock stopped his horse directly in front of Sebastian and spoke in a low, but threatening voice.

 

"It's best that you do not say anything about it. I'm doing everything I can to forget. Do not push me."

 

Sebastian noted that the escorts of both men were nervous about the turn the situation was taking. He dismounted and grabbed the reins of Sherlock’s horse.

 

"If we want this alliance to succeed,” he said in an equally low voice, “we have to solve this thing between us."

 

Sherlock also dismounted. "We’ll make this a rest stop for the horses," he ordered his men. Then he and Sebastian walked to a clearing sufficiently far away from the guards so they would not be overheard.

 

"If you want to hit me, you can do so,” Moran began, “I probably deserve it, but first listen to me."

"Speak quickly before I regret this alliance even more than I already do."

 

"John told you of the night we spent together,” he began, staring Holmes in the eyes. “For me that night meant a lot. It was like I was reborn, as if I had put an end to a painful chapter of my life and had started a new one."

 

"You're in love with John," Sherlock hissed with barely suppressed rage.

 

"No,” said Sebastian, “Or, maybe yes. It’s immaterial anyway. The fact is that no matter what I feel for him, John only has feelings for you. Ours was not a night of love, not for him. The first time I was almost violent ..."

 

"John told me that he was not forced, you're saying that’s not true?" Sherlock's anger was rising closer to the surface, ready to explode.

 

"Of course not!” Moran replied immediately. “I didn’t rape him! But neither was I very gentle, all right? I came to terms with the situation in which James had involved me, and I realized that I am glad I'm done with him. And John let me to do that, because he knew, somehow, that was what I needed."

 

Sherlock stared at him puzzled: "Do you realize that what you’re saying makes no sense whatsoever, right?"

 

Moran laughed sadly.  "I know what I look like. A pathetic loser, right?"

 

He looked into his eyes.

 

"Yet John didn’t treat me as if I was pathetic. So I thought he might be my second chance.”

 

He sighed deeply before continuing. 

 

“John was sound asleep when I began to kiss and caress him. He seemed to respond to my touch, or so I thought, until I realized later that I was not the one to whom he thought he was making love. He thought it was YOU. He came calling your name, and when he opened his eyes and saw that I was the one straddling him and moving inside him he was completely shocked. He had been totally convinced that he’d been with you the entire time.” 

 

Moran paused, then added in a whisper “You have no idea how deeply I envied you at that moment. It was the first and only time in my life that I did not want to be myself. I wanted to be you!” 

 

“For a moment I thought that I shouldn’t keep my promise to accompany John to Nevarsin. I thought if I held him there with me, he would learn to appreciate and love me. But deep inside I knew that would never be. He loves YOU. Aldones only knows what he sees in a block of ice like you, but John loves you alone! That kiss the other day ... I did it out of spite. Childish, I know."

 

Sherlock didn’t know what to say. He wanted to talk with John, not Moran.

 

'I made you fight, didn’t I?” Sebastian asked sadly, “Is that how the Terrani managed to abduct John? Because I caused you to fight and you left him alone?"

 

The two men looked at each other without saying anything. They were both aware that they felt guilty about what had happened to John.

 

This time it was Sherlock broke the silence.

 

"If I decided to accept this alliance, it would be because John is convinced that there is something good in you. It is true that we fought as a result of your actions, but I did not manage the situation in the best possible way.”

 

Sherlock paused to run his fingers through his hair in agitation. “I'm jealous of you. I am afraid that he will decide that I’m no longer worthy of his love and leave me. For you, or for someone like you. "

 

Sebastian shook his head: "How can you not understand, that would never happen?" 

 

"You just said that only Aldones knows what John sees in me!” replied an irritated Sherlock. “You think I’ve never asked him?"

 

Moran looked at him in surprise.

 

"I do not understand why all the surprise when I demonstrate that I have feelings!" snapped Holmes.

 

Moran held back a laugh, "If you want a comprehensive answer to that, we’ll both be old before I finished!"

 

Sherlock glared at him: "Sarcasm is only acceptable when John does it," he hissed.

 

Sebastian raised his hands as if to surrender: "Of course. Are we good?"

 

Sherlock studied him a bit.

 

He could understand what John saw in Moran. He felt the desire to redeem himself and the need to do the right thing.

 

"We will never be friends," said Holmes.

 

"Not what I'm asking." Sebastian replied seriously.

 

"And if you touch John again, I'll kill you," Sherlock added, voice low.

 

Moran was going to say that he would only touch John if John himself asked him to, but decided it was not an appropriate comment to make in the situation.

 

"Okay," he agreed seriously.

 

Sherlock stretched out a hand and shook Sebastian’s. It was a closer, more genuine shake than the wary one of the previous evening.

 

Both men were now relatively confident that they could trust and rely on the other.

 

\--------------------------------------------

 

The lights came on suddenly like lightning during a thunderstorm.

 

John instinctively closed his eyes and held them half closed until they became accustomed to the glare.

 

Magnussen smiled benignly as he, some handpicked guards and Sara entered John’s field of vision.

The girl had a split lip and an eye so swollen it was closed.

 

The Terrani let John get a clear view of the girl before enquiring, "Did you sleep well?"

 

"Wonderfully," John said, in a dry voice.

 

"As you see, dear Sara had a small accident,” Magnussen explained. “You should know that last night she attempted to break into this room to free you, but obviously she failed. The guards were not too kind to her, because I needed to know if she had any accomplices here on the base.”

 

He pause dramatically, “Do you want to know the results of our questioning, my dear John?"

 

"I feel sorry for the girl, but I know of no-one who lives or works on this base," said John.

 

"Oh yes,” Magnussen smiled, “I know, Sara has confirmed it."

 

"I'm so sorry, Lord John,” Sara whispered in a weak voice. “When I realized who you were, I'd already said too much to them."

 

"I am the Heir of Hastur,” John interrupted her, “That knowledge is something out of your control – it’s in the public domain."

 

"Oh, according to Sara you're much more than just the Heir,” Magnussen interjected, “Something rare and precious."

 

"Please, Doctor,” Sara pleaded, “You don’t understand! If a normal telepath is ten times more sensitive than a human being, a person with the pure Hastur Laran is ten times more sensitive than that telepath. If you expose him to your experiments, you will destroy him. Please, let him go!"

 

"Take her away and lock her up,” ordered Magnussen, “make sure she cannot escape."

 

"Please, Doctor!” Sara screamed as she was dragged away. “Don’t hurt him! Lord John, please co-operate with him or he will tear your mind to pieces! Please forgive me! "

 

Sara's voice grew quieter and quieter.

 

"Now then, John?” Magnussen cajoled in a tone so sweet it made John’s skin crawl, “What have you decided?"

 

"I don’t understand what you want of me,” John replied resolutely. “I am the heir of Regis Hastur and what you are doing could jeopardize all future relations between Darkover and Earth!"

 

Magnussen’s laughter was chilling.

 

"But my dear John, no one knows you're here!” he said. “Make up your mind to work for me or things will quickly become much worse for you."

 

John looked him straight in the eye.

 

"I have no idea why you would possibly think that I would cooperate with the likes of YOU. You KIDNAPPED me! Let me go and I’ll allow you to return to Earth without any repercussions."

 

Magnussen’s face became as hard as stone.

 

"Very well. I see you’ve made your choice.” He raised his head to address someone behind John. “Start with the clinical tests, after that we'll move him to the sound-proof room."

 

An unhappy-looking girl holding a syringe approached John. 

 

"I'm so sorry,” she said in a pained tone. “You were supposed to co-operate with him. We already know that there are telepaths among you. What sense is there in not explaining how your power works?"

 

As she withdrew blood from John’s vein with a syringe, a voice from the intercom announced: "Dr. Hooper, we are ready for the MRI."

 

"Well. Let’s get started," said the girl, walking away from John.

 

The bed began to move, slowly slipping into what looked like a tunnel just wide enough to let him pass.

 

John tried to control the panic that was growing in him. Being in such an enclosed place made him feel like he was being buried alive.

 

\--------------------------------------------

 

Sherlock and Sebastian had returned to their men and started out toward Hali.

 

The Darkovan people stayed as far away as possible from the site of the ancient tower.

 

The Tower of Hali was a monument to the human folly of the Ages of Chaos, when Darkovans had unleashed the horror of arrays used as weapons.

 

One of the worst of these was the pitch black - a substance capable of destroying all organic matter it came in contact with, yet leaving intact the inorganic. The skin of those hit by pitch black dissolved slowly. There was no way to stop the progress of the pitch, the victim died screaming in indescribable agony.

 

During the attack on the Tower of Hali, the  _Leronis_  and students present had used the last of their combined _Laran_ to project their pain to every person on the planet _,_  making them participate in their suffering.

 

The horrific circumstances of their demise had convinced almost everyone to ban the use of arrays as weapons.

 

Hali Tower had long been empty, but It was said that in its vicinity you could still hear the screams of anguish of the people who were slowly destroyed.

 

 

On observing the intact structure of the tower, both Sherlock and Sebastian felt shivers run down their spines. The Terrani prisoners however felt nothing.

 

"We managed to get here before they did," Sebastian said.

 

"That’s good,” Sherlock agreed. “We will wait for them, capture them, then we will interrogate them. Do you have anything against that plan? "

 

Sebastian thought of the poor Terran Sherlock had destroyed with his mind the night before.

 

"Absolutely nothing!" he replied.

 

\--------------------------------------------

 

John was brought out of the long tunnel and into the brightly lit room.

 

He could hear several people moving around him, although he did not see any.

 

"You see this part of the brain?” Hooper was telling the others, “In normal brains this section is unused, while in the Darkovans with Extra Sensory Perception you’ll see that is partly used. Now, look at this subject."

 

"Interesting,” said the cold voice of Magnussen. “It is much more developed than in any other Darkovan that we have studied so far. We must understand how it works, force him to use his power. "

 

"What do you want do to him?" There was a note of sadness in the voice of the young woman.

 

"Take him to the room with the items and leave him there for the rest of the day,” said Magnussen. “I want him to be subjected to visual and sensory stress throughout the day, in conjunction with the drugs. This way, he will be forced, sooner or later, to use his power to end the torture."

 

"Dr. Magnussen, please remember that Sara told us that he’s special, unique,” Hooper said with some hesitation.  “This can be seen even from these tests. We should not ... "

 

"You are questioning my decisions, Dr. Hooper?" Magnussen's tone was threatening.

 

"Of course not, Doctor," Hooper replied hastily.

 

"Very well then. Take him away." ordered Magnussen.

 

Dr. Hooper approached John and gave him an injection.

 

John felt weaker almost immediately and began to struggle to keep his  _Laran_  under control.

 

The bonds that held him to the bed were undone and John was lifted onto a wheelchair by two men and then taken to another room.

 

Once there, he was placed in a chair and bound tightly to it by his wrists, ankles and forehead.

They left him alone to face the flashing lights, alternating bright colors and the ear-shatteringly loud sounds of music and screams, which accompanied the violent images appearing on the screen in front of him.  

 

John had to use all his self-control to not use his  _Laran_  to put a stop to the cacophony.

 

\--------------------------------------------

 

The group of about a dozen Terrani arrived at Hali Tower shortly after Sherlock’s party, led by none other than Phillip Anderson.

 

Sherlock, Sebastian and their men, stayed within the woods until their arrival before flanking them and springing their trap. The fighting was very short and all the Terrani were taken prisoner.

 

Sherlock and Sebastian approached Anderson. "Don’t you know who I am?!” Anderson shrieked in anger, “I am the Terran Delegate! If you do not release me immediately, I will have your heads!"

 

"I know who you are,” Sherlock said, his voice low and cold. “We know you have assaulted and abducted the Hastur Heir as well as stealing a matrix belonging to the People of the Forge."

 

"I do not know where you got this information ..."

 

Anderson stopped abruptly. He felt a tearing sensation in his brain and was unable to keep from screaming.

 

"What were you saying?" Sherlock asked in a casual tone, loosening his grip on the mind of Terran.

 

"Wh ... wh ... what did you do to me ... you bastard ...!" he shouted again.

 

"You better be nice, Terran,” Sherlock said. “I can be even less friendly than that."

 

Anderson was breathing heavily: "It's ... it's ... well ... what do you want?"

 

"I want the jewel that you have stolen from the People of the Forge," Sherlock stated.

 

"That stone was taken to Thendara by the group that has the heir," replied Anderson.

 

Sherlock and Sebastian shuddered at the thought that a matrix as powerful as Sharra had been taken to the most populous city on the planet.

 

"What did you plan on doing here?" asked Holmes.

 

"We know there is another matrix hidden here,” said Anderson, “- a sword."

 

"Where?” Sherlock demanded, “In the tower?"

 

"Yes. In the basement."

 

Sherlock and Sebastian looked at each other. If Sharra really was in Thendara, the Sword of Aldones was the only item on the planet that could limit the potential damage.

 

They walked towards the tower, but suddenly felt an enormous pressure in their heads - the death screams of hundreds of people. The weight of the psychic pressure in their minds made it impossible for them to  approach.

 

They quickly retreated to a safe distance.

 

"It is a mental barrier,” said Sebastian. “That's why we can’t enter the tower. The past Keepers must have hidden the matrix somewhere within so those who had  _Laran_  could not take it. "

 

"Either that or you have to have some special power," thought Sherlock aloud.

 

The thought of both men raced to John who, being endowed with the Hastur _Laran_ , was the only one capable of controlling the Sword of Aldones.

 

"Perhaps only people without  _laran_ are able to enter,” suggested Sebastian. “After all, a matrix in the hands of someone without the gift is simply an unusual gem without any purpose!"

 

"Hmmm!” Sherlock pondered, “And we have so many possible candidates from which to choose!"

 

He approached Anderson, grabbing his hands and using the Voice Command: "You will enter Hali Tower. Find and retrieve the Sword of Aldones. Wrap it for protection in a cloth and bring it to us!"

 

He freed Anderson’s hands. The man turned and approached the tower, only to fall senseless to the ground at around the same point that Sherlock and Sebastian had experienced the psychic  impression.

 

"Oh dear! Well evidently it must be someone not under the control of  _laran!”_ he deduced calmly, turning to the other prisoners. “Now who wants to go to recover the gem and thereby save his own life?"

 

One of the Terrans reluctantly volunteered.

 

Sherlock nodded in agreement and Terran walked slowly to the tower, managing to pass inside unhindered.

 

It took nearly half an hour before he returned with the gem wrapped in an elegant silk handkerchief.

 

Sherlock and Sebastian could feel the enormous power emanating from the matrix.

 

Holmes wrapped it carefully and placed it in an inside pocket. "Now we ride for Thendara. There is an Heir to save!"

 

\--------------------------------------------

 

The images, sounds and lights were eventually turned off, and John found himself enveloped by darkness and total silence. He saw a streak of light form on the floor and heard someone come and go almost immediately.

 

The light went out, but John knew he was not alone.

 

A disturbing and malignant presence pressed directly against his mind. He knew it was not human, but something much more ancient and dangerous.

 

 _"I am here!”_  it told him in a soothing voice. “ _Take me._   _Use me._   _Let me help you take revenge._   _Join me, John  and unleash my power._   _Make it a part of yours._   _Together w_ _e will destroy everything, kill everyone! I am here only for you!!"_

 

John was horrified, realising that this presence was appealing to his darker side - his rage, his desire for revenge.

 

In his mind, he saw the image of a tongue of fire, which slowly took on the appearance of a seductive and enticing woman with flame red hair who was attempting to take control of him and manipulate him into unleashing its destructive power.

 

The part of John that held the Hastur _Laran_  rebelled against this intrusion and tried to fight it, but the matrix fed upon his anger and his desire for revenge until they were so strong that he too burned with the need to annihilate Thendara, the Terrani, and Darkover until nothing was left.

 

And John did not know how long he could resist.

\--------------------------------------------


	21. With Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mission to save John, soon turns into a race against time to save the planet from destruction.

****

** [Chapter ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3906340/chapters/8742100) ** ** 21 ** **:** **With Pride**

 

 

Sherlock and Sebastian left Hali in a hurry and reached Thendara at dusk.

 

Moran waited at a bar near the Terran base while Sherlock went to  _Castle_ _Comyn_  to report on what they had discovered. He found his brother waiting for him.

 

"Lestrade arrived in the afternoon,” began Mycroft. “They failed to intercept the group that kidnapped John. By now he will be within the Terran base."

 

"What does the Regent want to do?" Sherlock asked.

 

"What do you want him to do?” snapped the older Holmes. ”We cannot attack the Terran base. Regis has called for the delegate, but he did not show up."

 

Sherlock allowed himself an evil smile. "Oh, if Regis is expecting Anderson, he will be waiting for a long time!" he said with enigmatically.

 

Mycroft studied his little brother trying to understand his meaning. "I do not want to know anything.” He finally decided, “I think the less I know of what you have done, the safer it will be for us all."

 

Sherlock did not contradict him.

 

"Where Lestrade?” he asked, “I want him to accompany me to the bar for a drink. "

 

"He is in the stables,” Mycroft replied with a resigned tone. “Just try not to get killed, alright? It’s easy to find a solution for all your other troubles; death, however, would be a bit more difficult!"

 

"Really?” Sherlock asked sarcastically, “Wouldn’t you be happy to finally get rid of me?"

 

Mycroft sighed: "On the contrary. You're the only brother I have,” he said in a tone of mock resignation, “I am so used to you that if something happened, I would feel your absence. Acutely!"

 

Sherlock stared at him dumbfounded: "Mycroft, don’t become sentimental on me; it does not suit you."

 

The older Holmes gave a deep sigh, "Go do whatever you have in mind, but be careful."

 

Sherlock smiled and went to look for Lestrade.

 

 

He found Greg Lestrade instructing his men to set up for the night.  "Want to grab a drink at the Bar?" he offered, staring intently into the man’s eyes.

 

Lestrade hesitated, understanding immediately that there was an ulterior motive hidden within the question. "Which bar?" he asked in turn.

 

"The one near the Terran base,” Sherlock replied. “Do you know it?"

 

Lestrade nodded his head: "How many other people are invited?" he asked again.

 

"Oh it's a party for only three people,” Sherlock said, “And the third person is waiting for us already.”

 

"Well I could certainly use a drink!" Lestrade said.

 

Sherlock smiled gratefully, and the two men hurried away from _Comyn_  Castle with their heads covered to conceal their faces. Mycroft watched them go out and prayed that his brother could carry out his plan without getting killed.

 

\------------------------------------------

 

In the Terran base, John was finding resistance increasingly difficult.

 

At irregular intervals, the lights, the sounds and the images resumed, hammering through his brain. This alternated with periods of darkness and total silence, during which the mysterious voice took over, filling  John’s mind with chaos, and urging him to unleash his full power to destroy Terrani,  _Comyn_  and Darkover.

 

The desire to give in and allow his _Laran_ to lash out at the world, releasing him from his current agony was becoming increasingly difficult due to his fatigue. A part of him, however, was aware that if he let go, he would cause unbelievable pain and suffering to innocent people. And it was this thought even more than the hope that Sherlock would arrive soon to save him that enabled him to resist.

 

\------------------------------------------

 

Sherlock and Lestrade entered the darkened bar and were greeted by the smell of food and sweat and the indistinct guffaws and shouts of its patrons. They headed to a table with a solitary diner, who quietly watched them approach, raising his green eyes.

 

"I was intending to go alone,” Moran said, “Although I do appreciate your help."

 

"When and where do we meet your man?" Sherlock asked.

 

"He is expecting us at the south side of the base. He has created a gap through which we can enter and leave without the Terrani noticing."

 

He looked from Sherlock to Lestrade, then back at Sherlock. "Are you ready? If we get caught, I'll be the only one to get away without too many consequences. You are both risking much more than me."

 

Sherlock gave him a wry smile. "I will not allow you to be the only one to appear to be a hero to John!"

 

Sebastian smiled back, without comment, as the three men stood up and left the bar.

 

Under the cover of darkness and with their heads fully covered, they made their way towards the Terran base, walking carefully along the perimeter to avoid the intense artificial lights that lit the surrounding area. To the south was a dimly lit spot, and they could see a figure of average height but strong build waiting. As they approached, the man lifted a corner of the fence, allowing them entrance to the Terran base.

 

He hugged Moran with delight. "It’s good to see you, Seb!"

 

"This is my cousin Mike Damon Stamford Ardais,” Moran said as he introduced him to the others. “He has  managed to infiltrate the Terran base and is responsible for the very detailed information we have on what is happening here."

 

"You're too kind!” Mike said blushing, “I’m only doing my duty to protect Darkover from Terrani ambitions.” 

 

He continued more seriously. “I’ve discovered where they are holding the Heir captive. They are mentally torturing him in an attempt to force him to unleash his  _Laran._  Moreover, from the mind of the doctor who is dealing with Hastur I learned that they’ve put him in a sealed room with a matrix, to see if it will cause the release of his power. I do not know what kind of matrix it is, but the kidnappers brought it in with the prisoner."

 

Sherlock shivered. "They’ve put John in the same room with Sharra?"

 

Mike gasped. "Sharra?” he asked with a slight panic in his voice, “Are you saying that the Terrans have found Sharra? "

 

"It seems so,” Moran said, “Though I sincerely hope that it’s not true. Shall we go?"

 

With Mike’s inside knowledge of the base they soon arrived at a building constructed of a material  unusually cold to the touch. The inside of the building was almost incandescent with light and intense cold.

 

"Wear these,” Mike said, holding out their overalls. “They'll think you're Darkovan service personnel. Fortunately the Terrani consider us too far beneath them and don’t try to remember our faces. We can move through the base quite easily."

 

Walking with their heads down, as if they were in a hurry to reach their intended destination, the four men moved swiftly through the building without being discovered.

 

Arriving at a hallway seemingly indistinguishable from any of the others they had passed, Mike stopped.

 

"The middle room is where John Hastur is being held - the one with the guard,” he informed the others. “In addition to him, we will need to take out the doctor and guard in the front room who are monitoring what’s happening in the room with the prisoner."

 

"Right then,” Sherlock said, “Lestrade, you and Mike take out the guard in the corridor. Moran and I will take care of those in the other room."

 

With studied indifference, the four men walked down the hallway. Once alongside the guard, Lestrade turned suddenly and stunned him with a well-aimed blow, while Moran and Sherlock slipped into the surveillance room. 

 

Once inside, Holmes used his Voice to Command them: "Stop!"

 

The two men and one woman present in the room froze.

 

Moran quickly checked that there were no other doors or people they had missed, but no one had escaped the Alton’s instruction.

 

Sherlock's attention was drawn by a strange noise from the table at which the men and woman sat. He was sure he heard a human voice that pleaded for something to stop.

 

Moving in front of a strange mirrored surface, he saw in John, tied to a chair, screaming and begging them to put an end to whatever they were doing.

 

The image caused a deep pain and a violent rage in Sherlock, who turned to on the woman. "Who ordered this?" he demanded.

 

"Dr. Magnussen," she said in a faint voice.

 

"He is in this room?" Sherlock asked again.

 

"Yes," said the woman.

 

"Show him to me."

 

She pointed a finger toward the man with glasses sitting by her side.

 

Sherlock stared at him with an indecipherable look. He puts his mouth to Magnussen‘s ear and ordered:

"Turn the damn things off!!"

 

Magnussen turned off the lights, sounds and images. The strange mirror became dark and he could not see John, but he could still hear his voice, pleading and tired, saying: "Please, stop, I will not destroy anything and kill anyone. Leave me alone."

 

Sherlock nodded to Moran, to let him know that they should go to John.

 

"You, come with us,” he said to Magnussen, still using the Voice Command, and turning to others he ordered, “You will stay here and NOT move under any circumstances for the next four hours."

 

The three men left the room, returning to the hall, where Greg and Mike waited after having put the guard out of action. As soon as they entered the darkened room, Sherlock and Moran could immediately feel the malevolent presence of Sharra in their minds, inviting, persuading and eager to unleash hell.

 

Sherlock shook off the sensation and headed straight to John, followed closely by Lestrade and Magnussen.

 

John was very pale and it was obvious that he was expending an enormous amount of his remaining energy in an effort not to succumb to Sharra.

 

Sherlock touched his arm gently and whispered in his ear: "I'm here my love _,_  it's over. I’ve come to bring you home." He looked up at Magnussen: "Release him, without hurting him!" he hissed.

 

Magnussen obeyed.

 

Once John was freed from the constraints, Sherlock and Lestrade lifted him from the chair, taking care not to cause him more pain. They were headed for the door when they saw Sebastian Moran with Sharra tightly grasped in his hand.

 

His eyes glowed with an unworldly light. "We all know he's right, don’t we?" he asked, pointing to everyone and anyone.

 

Sherlock froze. "What are you planning to do Sebastian?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

 

Moran sighed, "The Terrani will not desist until we make it clear that we can defend ourselves from them."

 

Mike paled, "You want to unleash Sharra?" he asked in a weak voice.

 

"Yes,” Moran replied in a weakened voice.

 

“It should be obvious by now that I will not be leaving with you. Sharra is too powerful an artifact to simply carry around Thendara in search of a solution. Although my _Laran_ is not as powerful as an Alton’s or a Hastur’s I should be able to limit its destructive power to within this building before it consumes me. I'm sure the destruction of their base should serve as a suitable demonstration of our ability to destroy the Terrans! And, anyway, you have the Sword of Aldones and a Hastur. You can always counter Sharra, if I lose control."

 

John lifted his head from Sherlock’s shoulder and stared into Sebastian’s green eyes.

 

"No. You mustn’t do it,” he said in a weak voice, “This is the matrix speaking, Sebastian, not you. Don’t be ensnared by it. You can resist it! Please! Wrap it tightly in a cloth, it will stop enticing you."

 

Moran smiled softly at John: "Look what they have done to you,” he whispered, “Don’t you want to punish them?"

 

John stared at Sebastian with a sad look: "I want them to pay, but not this way,” he said, “not by losing you or your soul. It is too high a price. Sharra is too powerful; it will consume you, but will not let you die until it has destroyed _everything_ about you. You cannot control it. Please, Sebastian do not join it. Please, for me."

 

Sebastian came to John.  "I would do anything for you, John,” he whispered, “and I will do this deed for you.”

 

John reached out and grabbed Sebastian’s wrist in desperation. "I do not WANT you to do it. I beg you, you don’t have to die to redeem yourself, you have already done so! You're here! You helped Sherlock save me. I will speak with my father, with the  _Comyn_ Council, you will be pardoned! "

 

John knew that what he was saying would not make Sebastian give up his plan.

 

He turned to Sherlock, looking for support. "Tell him yourself,” he urged him. “Tell him that this sacrifice does not make sense!"

 

Sherlock watched Sebastian: ice-blue eyes fixed to green ones.

 

"Oh go on, Sherlock, tell me!” Sebastian said ironically. “Tell me that I shouldn’t die, even after I had John for a night."

 

John was stunned. "That has nothing to do with anything!” the strangled scream came out. “You do not have to die for that!"

 

"Do you agree, Sherlock?” Moran goaded, “Are you SURE I do not have to pay for that night? Are you SURE that I won’t take John away from you if I stayed alive?"

 

John shook his head in dismay, "Nonononononono! This can’t be happening! Please Sebastian, stop. Sherlock, please ...!"

 

John collapsed exhausted in Sherlock’s arms.

 

Sebastian looked at him worriedly. "You have to take him to the castle, quickly."

 

Sherlock looked up Moran. "You know I would do it if I were not afraid that my  _Laran_  would trigger Sharra into more destruction, right?"

 

Sebastian smiled peacefully: "You understand."

 

"Yes. And I don’t say this because I’m afraid you may take John away from me!" he pointed out.

 

"I know," replied Moran.

 

Sherlock moved John smoothly and gently into the arms of Lestrade.

 

He stood in front of Moran, reaching out, "I will make sure that everyone knows that the real hero is you.” he said. “I will tell everyone you sacrificed yourself to save John and Darkover from the greed and stupidity of the Terrani. No one will remember your past dealings with Moriarty."

 

Moran choked back a laugh.

 

"I don’t regret having loved Jim,” he objected, “My only regret is that I was not able to save him from himself. You don’t need to restore my name. It is better that the Terrani believe that I have no ties to the Council. They will have their punishment, but they won’t be able to blame the  _Comyn._  So, everybody wins. Even me. I'll finally have my peace. I might even be reunited with Jim, don’t you think? "

 

Sherlock did not withdraw his hand.

 

"The Terrani are not obliged to know everything. The important thing is that Darkovans know that you are the one who stopped this madness."

 

Sebastian took his hand and squeezed Sherlock’s tightly. The two men stared at each other, recognizing they had much more in common than they would ever admit.

 

Sebastian moved to John, giving him a light kiss on the forehead. "I've known you too late, little John,” he whispered. “I'll find you again in another life."

 

He turned to Mike: "You have to go with them and get them out of here. Farewell cousin."

 

Mike hugged him without saying a word. "Let's go,” he added, “I wouldn’t want someone to find us at this point."

 

Sherlock lifted John in his arms. He had always been slight in build, but now he seemed fragile and delicate, as if he could easily break.

 

Sherlock hugged him tenderly and turned to Magnussen, "Do not move from this room and say nothing,” he ordered. Turning one last time to Sebastian he added, “I’m guessing that it won’t bother you to have some company?"

 

Moran grinned satisfied. "Got to feed the fire with something, isn’t that right? Take care of little John. "

 

Magnussen turned pale with terror, having sensed something of the men’s plan, but completely unable to do anything to prevent what would happen.

 

\------------------------------------------

 

Sebastian Moran was in the dark room, holding the powerful Sharra matrix.

 

While the others had been present, the seductively persuasive voice of the matrix had remained in the background of his mind. Now that there was silence, his mind was filled with words and desires that were not his.

 

 _"What are you waiting for?”_  enticed the voice. ” _Join me._ _U_ _nleash me_ _._   _Free our anger."_

 

 _"Don’t do that Sebastian,”_ John’s voice echoed in his head, “ _Please, do not._   _It's not worth it._ "

 

 _"John leave,”_ Moran said dryly, “ _Get out of my mind._   _I'm tying to control Sharra!_ "

 

 _"Do not make him go away,”_  whispered Sharra, “ _Let him binds us._   _We will be stronger._   _We will destroy more._ "

 

 _"Do not listen_!” The desperate plea in John’s voice shook Sebastian’s heart. “ _Come out._   _Join us._   _Do not die, please._   _We'll find another way to punish the Terrani._   _I will not leave you alone, Sebastian. I will not let you die alone._   _If you want to move forward, you will have to take me with you._   _You'll have to kill me._  "

 

 _"Keep him with us,”_ coerced Sharra’s melodious voice, “ _We'll be together forever."_

 

Moran had tried to keep himself tied to John forever - his new beginning. But he was about to be burned by the destructive fire of Sharra and would not drag John with him.

 

John had Sherlock. John was Sherlock’s not his. He had no right to kill John and separate them.

 

With a huge force of will, Sebastian drove John from his mind, locking him out violently, to ensure he would not have second thoughts and would not be swayed by Sharra.

 

\------------------------------------------

 

John was half unconscious in Sherlock’s arms.

 

They reached the outer perimeter of the Terran base without meeting anyone. Given the late hour, most Terrani were asleep in their quarters.

 

Under cover of darkness, they made their way swiftly to _Comyn Castle_. Entering via the exterior staircase, Sherlock took John to the secret room he occupied in the Hastur’s chambers and lay him gently upon the bed.

 

Leaving Lestrade to watch him, Sherlock went to Regis Hastur to explain what was going to happen and to ask if Beltran was in the Castle to help with John.

 

\------------------------------------------

 

Sebastian Moran immersed his mind in the sentience of the matrix, binding himself to it, expanding his senses. He could clearly see the building he was in, as well as all the others around it. He could feel the presence of Terrani and Darkovans asleep in their beds, oblivious to the danger.

 

He expanded his senses further until he could feel all of Thendara and the Castle of  _Comyn_ _._ He found John and with him, he found his enemy.

 

John was weak and confused. He knew that Sherlock had taken him away from the base and the Terrani, all of which left Sebastian with only Sharra.

 

In his state of semi-consciousness, John sensed a somewhat familiar presence inviting him to join with him.

 

 _"I've been waiting for you for a long time, John,”_  said the calm, friendly voice. “ _We cannot save Sebastian, but we can limit the power of Sharra._   _It is our job to prevent it from destroying everything._   _We were created for this._ "

 

Almost without realizing it, John had taken the Sword of Aldones from Sherlock’s pocket and linked to the matrix.

 

Sebastian felt overwhelmed by a fury both incendiary and destructive. His enemy was weak and could easily be reduced to ashes.  Without John or Sherlock’s presence, he would be free to destroy the entire planet.

 

It burned him, and no one would stop him from burning everyone!

 

\------------------------------------------

 

John sat down on the bed.

 

Lestrade was immediately at his side. "Sherlock is on his way with a  _Leronis,”_  he reminded John. “You will recover soon."

 

John looked up at him with a determination that Lestrade had never seen before.

 

"I must go to the window,” he said with a faint, but inflexible tone. “Sebastian is about to unleash Sharra and thinks he can control it. He does not know what's wrong."

 

Lestrade was worried.

 

John was too pale, and the dark circles beneath his eyes were so deep that his dark blue irises were almost invisible. He couldn’t understand how he could still be sitting upright, and he didn’t know what he wanted to do, but his instinct was screaming at him not to allow John to move.

 

John got up anyway, but lost his balance. Lestrade immediately steadied him, preventing him from falling. He was going to help him lean against the bed, but John refused. "I HAVE to go to the window!" he repeated firmly.

 

\------------------------------------------

 

Sharra had sensed her enemy and desired his destruction, but Sebastian, with a huge effort of will, turned his attention back to the building in which he stood. He realized that the weak point of the structure was a power generator and he therefore caused it to overheat so it exploded.

 

Sebastian’s body was hit by the force of the explosion, but Sharra would not let him die, and even as he burned, she crept into his mind to urge the destruction of the base and of Thendara, until all his enemies, until even Hastur were destroyed.

 

\------------------------------------------

 

Lestrade heard the explosion and turned to the window.

 

"Sharra has been triggered and cannot be stopped without assistance,” whispered John. “Would you let her destroy the entire city?"

 

Greg did not know what to do. He knew John was weak, but he knew that the ancient matrix would not be stopped easily.

 

"Please!” John urged in a heartfelt plea, “We cannot allow there to be a massacre, even among Terrani!"

 

"Fine," Lestrade finally surrendered and walked John to the window.

 

The sight that met their eyes was simultaneously beautiful and disturbing.  A violent fire was lighting up the dark night, backlighting the city. The flames themselves had taken an odd shape – that of a beautiful woman dancing sensuously to attract her lover.

 

John felt the pull of the matrix and his  _Laran_  reacted as if confronted by a long-standing enemy, long-awaited yet much desired.

 

He closed his eyes and concentrated, his mind dipping into the depths of the powerful Sword of Aldones  matrix, and with it tried to connect to and shut down Sharra.

 

Sebastian Moran felt another mind touch his. It was someone familiar, someone that one part of him loved, but another hated and wanted to destroy.

 

 _"Sebastian it is time to make peace with the world,”_ said John in a gentle voice. “ _Let go of Sharra, put an end to the destruction._   _The Terrani now understand._   _They have been punished enough._ "

 

 _"No,”_  Sebastian replied, “ _They have NOT suffered enough._   _They took from me the love of my life! I lost Jim because of them._   _They must pay._  "

 

 _"You did not lose Jim because of Terrani,” argued_ John, “ **I** _was the one who kill him._   _And I am ready to pay._   _You do not have to destroy all Thendara, to get your revenge._   _You just have to kill me!_ "

 

\------------------------------------------

 

Sherlock and Beltran entered John’s room together.

 

Seeing the empty bed, Sherlock was momentarily relieved, but that relief was short-lived as almost immediately he saw John in front of the window, supported by Lestrade; fully focused and holding something which was shining brightly.

 

Instinctively, Sherlock placed his hand to the pocket where he had stored the Sword of Aldones and realized it was gone. He understood at once that John had removed the matrix while he had been distracted and was now using it to stop Sharra.

 

He rushed to John screaming in despair, "John stop! Don’t try to connect with Sharra."

 

Beltran grabbed him by the arm, before he could reach him, "Stop! Let him continue."

 

Sherlock turned to Beltran, furious, "It will kill him!"

 

Beltran stared at him, a pained expression on his face. "I'm sorry, Sherlock. This is John’s fate. Sharra must be stopped before it destroys Thendara and Darkover."

 

"You knew!" Sherlock could not believe what he was hearing.

 

"Ever since you both were born I have had visions of the two of you,” Beltran explained. “I could not tell you anything that would change the future. Your role is to stand by and watch as John fulfills his destiny. Then YOU will need to save him."

 

"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked.

 

Beltran sadly patted his left arm, before silently turning to support his nephew.

 

Sherlock decided he did not want to hear any more riddles and moved to stand next to John.

 

The light shone intensely from the matrix in John’s hands. Sherlock had never seen anything like it; the blue light was intense enough to almost burn the eyes.

 

\------------------------------------------

 

John felt the focus of Sharra move from the planet to him.

 

 _"You know who I am?”_ he asked, “ _Because I know I'm not talking to Sebastian Moran now, but to Sharra."_

 

The figure in John’s mind turned into Sebastian in a flash of devastating fire.

 _"I know I'm not just talking to the deadly little John Hastur,”_ said a crackling voice. “ _I know you are there, Aldones,_   _a_ _nd this will be our last battle._ "

 

 _"You must put an end to your destruction,”_  replied a voice that was not entirely John’s. “ _Our time is finished._   _You can’t just seek to_ _destroy._ "

 

 _"Men have not changed,”_  said Sharra. “ _Do_ y _ou not feel how great their anger is?_   _Listen to the voices of the bitterness and hatred that are born and grow stronger in them every day._   _Feel their urge to destroy and kill that every one of these men nourishes within himself, singing songs of vengeance._   _All this feeds my flame._   _How are you going to stop me, little man, you alone against it all?_ " mockery dripped from every word Sharra uttered.

 

John smiled. _"I am not alone.”_  he said. “ _Beside me are Sherlock, Greg and Beltran,_  a _nd they are not the only ones!_   _The malice and spite that_ _feeds you is much weaker than what which sustains me: love, friendship, solidarity, altruism._   _These emotions are more difficult to see than the hatred, anger and revenge which you  manifest. Love and friendship are more intimate and reserved._   _Isn’t that right,_ _Sebastian?"_

 

John spoke the name of Moran with immense sadness.

 

The tongue of flame flickered, as if for a moment it had lost some of its power.

 

 _"Sebastian.”_  John said softly, “ _Thou wouldst not destroy Darkover, wouldst thou?"_

 

John saw the form of Sharra flicker.

 

 _"He is mine!”_ it shouted angrily. “ _H_ _e has decided to join me to complete the plan_ _and_ _revenge_ _his lover!_ "

 

 _"What lover?”_  asked John. “ _Sebastian, don’t be carried away by Sharra._   _You do not want to destroy Darkover._   _Do you want to SAVE it. "_

 

The shape of fire came to take the form of Sebastian Moran. _"Stay away John!”_  Sebastian said in a frightened voice. “ _I could hurt you!_  "

 

As he spoke, the ethereal form of John came closer to that of Moran, spreading his arms, unintimidated.

 

Surrounded by a blue halo, John hugged the other man.

 

 _"You are not alone, Sebastian._   _And you must fix this._ "

 

Moran tried to break free from the embrace, in desperation, _"Let me go, John!_   _If you do not, I will destroy you!"_

 

John kept hold of him. _"You must choose, Sebastian._   _Only you can stop this. Only you can remove your energy and not act as a conduit between yourself and the negative emotions of everyone on this planet!”_

John felt Moran’s despair, sensing the battle being fought within.

 

 _"You play with a still burning fire, little John,"_  Sebastian whispered bitterly.

 

 _"I can burn with you, if you want,”_  John cajoled. “ _The important thing is to stop Sharra from destroying everything._   _Isn’t that what you want too?_ "

 

 _"You will not go, will you, little John?”_  Sebastian asked sadly. “ _Why do you want to die?"_

_"Would you kill me?"_  questioned John.

 

After a moment's hesitation, Sebastian smiled and hugged John tightly.

 

The red halo surrounding the ethereal figure of Moran subsided, fading more and more towards the blue.

 

John heard a piercing scream cut through his mind when Sebastian broke his ties with Sharra, but he was  not afraid, and did not abandon his friend.

 

He listened, enclosing Sebastian in his arms, trying to alleviate much of the pain; welcoming him and sharing it with him.

 

Once he realized that Sebastian had died peacefully, John finally let go, exhausted, falling swiftly into a cold, dark world from which he did not have the strength to get out.

 

He felt Sherlock beside him, but he was a presence so muffled and far away that he could not understand what it was he wanted from him.

 

John allowed himself to be surrounded by that oblivion, unable to reach the increasingly distant voice of Sherlock, desperately calling to him.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


	22. Time after time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last fight for happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's also came the end to this story. I thank k8ec very much, because, without her wonderful work, you would have never been able to fully appreciate my story.
> 
> Thank you K. A big hug.

****

** [Chapter ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3906340/chapters/8742100) ** ** 22: ** **Time after Time**

 

 

Sherlock watched with great concern the fire that was developing at the Terran base.

Around the tall, female-shaped flame, a blue curtain seemed to have formed, creating an impression of containment and closeness, as of two lovers embracing. Sherlock felt that John’s forces were declining and felt helpless, unable to help him.

 

Suddenly, the flames reverted to those of a normal fire.

 

And John collapsed into Sherlock’s arms.

 

"John!” he cried in concern, “John, open your eyes! Please, I beg you, John!"

 

He looked up at Beltran. "What has happened?” he asked in despair. ”Why won’t he answer me?"

 

Beltran’s pain could be read in his eyes. "The Terran’s torture has weakened him,” he answered. “What he did to try and stop Sharra has drained the last of his energy. John’s mind has been lost in the clash between the two matrices."

 

"Where and how was he lost?” Sherlock demanded. “How do we bring him back?"

 

"No-one knows,” sighed Beltran. “Only you, Sherlock, can find the way to bring back John to us.  _THIS_ is your destiny!” He paused sadly before continuing, “If you fail, John will be lost forever."

 

Sherlock looked from Beltran to John’s pale face. He would find a way to bring him back, even if it meant traversing the ice hells of Zandru!

 

\-----------------------------------------------------

 

Sherlock and Lestrade had gently laid John on the bed, when John's parents and Alton burst into the room.

 

Sherlock was annoyed by the presence of so many people as it prevented him from thinking clearly.

 

"What’s happened to my son?" Liriel worried.

 

"He is linked to the Sword of Aldones,” said Beltran. “He partially stopped Sharra, but he’s now in a coma."

 

"How do we wake him?" asked Regis.

 

"We can’t.” said Beltran. “Only Sherlock can find a way to wake him."

 

"NEVER!” Rafael replied furiously, “I will not have you taking risks with my son!"

 

Beltran turned a stern look onto Rafael; "If you don’t let your son save John, the Hastur will remain without an Heir."

 

"I do not care!” countered Rafael. “I will NOT allow my son to endanger his life!"

 

"It is not up to you, father!” Sherlock snapped angrily, “I'm not a child any more and you cannot decide for me."

 

Rafael gave him a withering look, "You are my son,” he hissed, “And as such, you have to obey!"

 

Sherlock and Rafael looked askance at each other, each of them furious with the Alton lord.

 

"You did not hesitate to hurt other parents when you took away OUR son!”  Gabriel interposed, “Even now you think solely of your child. I understand you are concerned about Sherlock’s safety, but don’t you think you owe us, Rafael? We could have removed John from the Altons without any regard to the health of your child, but we did not."

 

"I thank you for that,” said Rafael, “However, in return for your sacrifice I gave John an education that he otherwise would not have received."

 

"That's not quite true,” Beltran replied. “If the boys had not met in the _Overworld_ _,_  I would have ensured that John went to Neskaya anyway. Do you really think that I would have allowed the Heir to Hastur to not receive the education necessary to effectively rule?"

 

"Nevertheless, I will not allow my son to take the risk!" Rafael insisted stubbornly.

 

While their parents were arguing on the issue, Sherlock was sitting on the bed next to John, watching him.

 

John looked pale and tired, and his breathing was so weak that Sherlock had to strain to see his chest rise.

He didn’t know what to do, but he could NOT allow John to die - he had just gotten John back into his life and he would fight against everything and everyone to keep them together!

 

He tried to isolate his mind from the confusion that reigned within the room and spoke to John. _"Can you hear me?_   _Why won’t you come back to me?_   _What keeps you away?_   _How can I reach you? "_

 

John did not answer.

 

Sherlock was frustrated and desperate. Suddenly his attention was drawn to the matrix in John’s left hand.

The Sword of Aldones shone a bright warm blue so intense as to almost hurt the eyes. Sherlock had already noticed how the matrix shone abnormally and realized that through the gem he could reach John.

 

With a leap he stepped over John’s body, laying down beside him and taking the left hand of his lover.

This way, the Sword of Aldones found itself squeezed between the palms of both John and Sherlock.

 

Sherlock felt himself snatched from reality and catapulted into a dark world like the _Overworld_ , yet darker and more disturbing. At the center of this world shone the ethereal figure of John, surrounded by a strange red glow.

 

Rafael noticed the movement of Sherlock with his peripheral vision, but before he could intervene, his son had already connected with John through the matrix.

 

The bodies of both boys gave a violent jolt, then lay passively on the bed, as though they were sleeping.

 

Rafael turned angrily toward Gabriel, Liriel and Regis. "You distracted me on purpose to allow Sherlock time to link with John!” he screamed. “If anything happens to my son, it will be your fault and I will make you PAY!"

 

"No, father,” Mycroft Intervened with a hard voice, “It is not their fault. None of them forced Sherlock to sacrifice himself for John. Sherlock did it of his own free will because he wanted to. Nobody could stop him, not even you. These two are deeply attached and they are both willing to make any sacrifice necessary in order to save the other. John launched himself and Moriarty into a waterfall to protect Sherlock, believing it would result in his death. Sherlock is now connected to the Sword of Aldones to bring John back. And he hasn’t done this for Hastur or for the future of Darkover, but for _himself_. To get the most important person in his life back."

 

"Do not contradict me Mycroft!" Rafael threatened.

 

"Enough!" the soft toned voice of Eileen surprised everyone.

 

Rafael turned startled to his wife: "Eileen ... this is our son!"

 

"We've always been selfish, Rafael,” Eileen said. “For too long we have thought that the serenity and safety of our children come before that of all others. Now fate presents us with the bill for our selfishness. We should be PROUD of the fact that Sherlock is not like us and has decided to risk his own life for someone he so deeply loves!"

 

Rafael was about to reply, but he saw the determination in his wife’s eyes, so similar to that of their younger son, and knew that he would never win this argument. 

 

He turned to Beltran: "Can we do anything to help them?" he asked in resignation.

 

Beltran thought deeply for a while. “I don’t know what Sherlock is trying to do, but we should form a Laran Circle and monitor their physical state - try to keep their bodies in the best possible condition."

 

Hastur and Alton both nodded their agreement.

 

"I think three at a time will do,” Beltran continued. “That will leave us with sufficient reserves should this continue for any length of time."

 

Gabriel and Rafael immediately pulled faces.

 

Beltran hid a smile, "I would say that we have the people for the first circle. Liriel, please remain here as a  reserve. The rest of you get some rest, we do not know what we'll have to deal with here."

 

"I'm staying," said Eileen.

 

Her tone brooked no argument and no one tried to convince her to leave the room.

 

Liriel took her hands in hers, "We'll wait together, my friend.” She smiled softly; “I want you to tell me about my son."

 

Eileen smiled. "It will be a pleasure. He was a sweet child, you know?"

 

Eileen began to tell her story softly to Liriel. The others left the room, while Beltran, Gabriel and Rafael focused on their matrix and connected to form a Circle to protect their children.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------

 

"John?” Sherlock called haltingly, “Are you okay?"

 

An insubstantial John turned to Sherlock, who noted the presence of another figure behind his lover. Only then did Holmes realise that John was surrounded by a blue aura that reminded him of the color of the matrix, while the red reflection he saw was caused by the second figure.

 

John stared at Sherlock, dumbfounded. "What are you doing here?” he asked, worriedly. “This is dangerous! You must go back!"

 

"I will never go without you!” Sherlock replied, approaching him quietly. “We can either go back together, or we can stay here together. I will not leave you alone."

 

The figure behind John moved so that Sherlock could see it well.

 

Sebastian Moran was now a tongue of firey red flame.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------

 

Regis Hastur had reached his office and sat down at his desk, closing his eyes. He could not believe that after waiting so long for an heir, he was now about to lose him.

 

According to Beltran, Sherlock would save John and everything would turn out for the best; however, a margin of error was always a possibility with his brother’s prophecies. He could not even contemplate the possibility that the young Holmes would fail.

 

A soft knock at the door, tore him from his reflections: "Come in."

 

Darryl Sirtys, his personal attendant, entered the room.

 

"Lord Hastur,” he greeted his employer, “There is a representative from the Terran base asking for an audience."

 

Regis sat up straight in his chair, annoyed.

 

"What more do they want?” he asked angrily. “Have they not done enough damage?"

 

Darryl did not respond to the regent, who stood up, moving to the window. "I should not receive them, but I cannot afford to completely end our relations with the Terrans. Let him wait for a while, then allow him in but tell him that I have no time to see them at the moment."

 

Darryl bowed: "As you command, Lord Hastur."

 

The attendant went out, leaving him alone again with his thoughts.

 

If it were possible to do so safely, he would have wiped the Terrans from the planet a long time ago, but he knew it would be an empty victory - the Terrans had a too great a technological advantage. If Darkover confronted them, they would eventually be destroyed.

 

He only hoped that the sacrifices of John, Sherlock and Sebastian could be used to force the Terrans to a series of negotiations between equals, securing the safety of the planet and its inhabitants.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------

 

Sherlock stared at Sebastian Moran and felt a chill run up his spine. Something was very wrong!

 

What he felt from the form behind John was nothing like the man he had known and, despite everything, respected.

 

"Who are you?" he asked in a harsh tone.

 

"Don’t you recognize me?” the firey figure asked in a disparaging tone of voice, “I'm Sebastian Moran, John’s lover."

 

John turned to the flame. "Do not say that Sebastian,” he scolded. “You know we did not have a relationship. We were only friends."

 

"Friends do not make love," the flame said softly to him.

 

"You are NOT Sebastian Moran,” Interjected Sherlock. “Get away from him! John, you are in grave danger. Please come to me."

 

He reached out his hand to John, but to his surprise, John didn’t move and looked at the hand that as if he didn’t understand what he should do with it.

 

"You have to go away Sherlock,” he said instead. “I cannot leave Sebastian alone. He chose to sacrifice his life for me and I cannot abandon him."

 

Sherlock felt his anger grow in him and he saw the red flame become larger and more vivid, taking over John’s  etheric manifestation as the blue aura around him shrank.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------

 

A young Terran woman was finally led into the presence of Regis Hastur.

 

The Regent was sitting at his desk, his brother Caryl at his side. The demeanors the two elderly men were severe and forbidding.

 

"Good morning, Mr. Hastur,” Dr. Hooper began timidly, “I am ... "

 

"LORD Hastur,” Regis corrected sharply. “The correct way to address me is _Lord_ Hastur."

 

"Oh, yes, my apologies,” Molly said, blushing. “I'm not used to such meetings, but I am the highest ranking person left at the Base after what happened last night."

 

"I hope you did not lose too many people," Regis said, in an icy, unconvincing tone.

 

"One of the central buildings was destroyed by the fire,” Hooper informed him. “All those who were inside at the time died - both Terran and Darkovan. Twenty-seven people in all."

 

"I am sorry for your loss,” Regis said with a gracious nod of his head, though his tone seemed to contradict what he was saying. “What is it I can do for you?"

 

"After what happened, I would like to transfer the remaining staff at the base on the Hellers. I would like to ensure that I can make this transfer without risk of further attacks."

 

"WE did not attack YOU,” stressed Regis in a hard voice. “We have no knowledge of how the fire started, or even if it was man-made or mechanical."

 

"I do not wish to offend,” Molly said quickly. “We don’t understand what caused the fire either, but we no longer have any person of seniority at the base, which is why I need to transfer our staff."

 

"I have no objections to your leaving,” said Regis. “You may leave Thendara in safety. No one, by order of the _Comyn,_  will attack you. I cannot answer for outlaws, of course, but I imagine that you have well-armed guards to defend you. "

 

"Of course, Sir” Hooper said. “Thank you.”

 

She hesitated before continuing, “I also wanted to return this." She pulled from her pocket a transparent plastic container in which sat a gem of dark red hue.

 

Regis and Caryl immediately recognized Sharra, the matrix against which John had struggled. It appeared to be emitting a faint red light.

 

"This gem was found in the room where the effects of the fire were most violent,” Molly explained. “It was in the hands of a man that we cannot identify, but who seems to have been of Darkovan heritage. His body was brought to the castle so you may identify and bury him according to your customs."

 

Molly remained with the box in the air, as neither of the Hasturs made a move to remove it from her.

 

"Thank you,” Regis said after a tense pause. “Please place the container on the desk and see my Secretary regarding the disposition of the corpse you brought to us."

 

Molly Hooper realized that she had been dismissed and rose to her feet to leave, but before she got to the door, she stopped and turned back.

 

"I hope John Hastur is fine,” she whispered, fearfully. “I wanted to stop Dr. Magnussen, but he was my boss, you know?"

 

Neither Regis nor Caryl said anything, so Molly withdrew from the Hastur’s presence.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------

 

Sherlock saw John's face pale and he realized it was his anger that caused that pain.

 

Concerned, Sherlock approached him, "John, LOOK at him! He is NOT Sebastian! "he shouted.

 

John turned to the red shape and saw Sebastian smiling at him sweetly. A part of him, however, vibrated as if sensing danger.

 

He turned back to Sherlock, "Please, go away,” he said. “This place is not safe for you. Leave me, I'm so tired."

 

"No!” Sherlock retorted vehemently, “I will not leave you here. If you don’t want to go back with me, I'll stay here with you."

 

The flame strengthened. "I am already here,” it hissed mellifluously, “he doesn’t need anyone else! John does not love you. He never loved you! John has always loved Sebastian Moran!"

 

Sherlock was about to rage, when he realized what was happening; the Sharra matrix was able to partially overcome the Sword of Aldones, and was trying to kill John by exploiting the anger and jealousy the young Holmes felt toward Sebastian.

 

Sherlock decided he would not allow that cursed matrix to use him to win its battle against the neutral Sword of Aldones.

 

"I know who and what you are,” he said quietly, “And you do not scare me. I will fight against anyone and anything to get John back with me forever!"

 

"It is John who does not want you in his life, stupid child!” said the flame in an evil tone. “John and Sebastian did not just have a single night, they were together EVERY night he was in the village. He complained of your obsessive love and laughed at your childlike love of him. He's tired of having you around, with all your fears and your insecurities hidden behind your cold ‘logic’. John wants to be rid of you!"

 

"It's not true!” protested John, “Don’t believe him, Sherlock. I love YOU!”

 

Sherlock reached out his hand again to John, smiling.  "I know,” he answered. “Take my hand. Together we will defeat it. We are the soul of Darkover, remember?"

 

John reached for Sherlock ready to leave with him, but the fire opposed him, wrapping him with its flame.

 

"Sherlock!" John shouted.

 

"John!"

 

The fear of losing John caused Sherlock to instinctively use his  _laran_  Voice Command.

 

"Let him go!" he demanded of the matrix.

 

Through the dark he spread a huge energy wave that swept across both John and flame-like entity.

 

John was not hurt by the energy given off as the flames retreated losing strength and color, and he approached Sherlock, taking his hand. Together they faced the furious form of Sharra, who was losing more and more of its strength.

 

"I will never let you take away the young Hastur!” it screamed into their minds. “I will not be defeated! NEVER!"

 

The primordial force tried to attack them, but Sherlock and John, hands united, joined their  _Laran_  to repel the assault.

 

Sherlock gathered both his forces and those of John, using the Voice Command: "Go away!" he hissed.

 

With a desperate cry, the flame was extinguished. The OverWorld became dark.

 

The etheric forms of John and Sherlock looked into each other’s eyes.

 

"Now wake up,” Sherlock said with a firm voice. “If you do not return to your senses when I do I'll pinch  you! And I will not be nice!"

 

John moved forward to kiss Sherlock, "Nothing could keep me away from you."

 

\-----------------------------------------------------

 

Sherlock finally opened his eyes.

 

Eileen was just next him, but Sherlock ignored his mother and turned to John; "Wake up.” His voice was a mix between supplication and command, “Open your eyes or I’ll get really angry!"

 

John neither moved nor opened his eyes.

 

Sherlock waited impatiently then raised a worried look to Beltran.

 

"The sword had been contaminated by Sharra,” Sherlock told him. “We should have fully decontaminated John’s matrix. Why won’t he wake up? "

 

"With all that has happened, it could take hours yet," Beltran said.

 

"Hours?" snapped Sherlock.

 

"I don’t think so,” whispered John without opening his eyes. “Can you please remove your hand from the matrix? It looks like you're getting ready to punch me! "

 

Sherlock jumped, pulling his hand from the gemstone.

 

John opened his eyes. He was very pale, looking drained of all power.

 

Sherlock brushed a lock of hair from his forehead.  "You’d deserve it because you scared me a lot!” he said in a sweet tone. “Don’t ever do that again, okay? Because of you, in the past year I have aged ten years!"

 

John smiled at Sherlock: "I doubt it,” he said, “You're beautiful!"

 

Sherlock returned with a broad smile. "Don’t think that flattery will save you from the scolding you will get once you’re better!" he promised in a fake threatening tone as he gently kissed John’s lips.

 

John had closed his eyes during the kiss, but opened them immediately on sensing Sherlock’s underlying  anxiety.

 

"I had to,” he said. “I had to stop Sharra. It would have destroyed the planet otherwise!"

 

"Don’t talk,” chided Beltran in a soft voice. “You must recuperate. You too, Sherlock. You have done something very dangerous and brave. "

 

Sherlock glanced around the room. "I'm not going to move from this bed until John is capable of standing on his own. Is that clear? "He said resolutely.

 

Rafael stared at his son, knowing he would never be able to get him out of that room.

 

"You'll not cause any more trouble, right?" he asked the patient.

 

"If anyone tries to separate me from John, I'll definitely cause THEM a load of trouble!" Sherlock assured him.

 

"Let me bring you both something to eat,” interjected Beltran, hoping to prevent another argument. “Sherlock, can you make sure that John eats, but don’t worry if he falls asleep in the middle of it. In the coming days he will probably want to sleep a lot."

 

"I'll do whatever I need to, to keep him comfortable," promise Sherlock.

 

"Me too," added John.

 

And then they were finally left alone.

 

Sherlock lay down next to John, being careful not to touch the matrix as John switched it to his other hand.

 

"It's just the matrix you can’t touch,” he said in a low voice. “If you want to hug me, you can do it without any problems. Indeed, I’d really like that."

 

Sherlock didn’t need to be told twice, immediately throwing an arm and leg over John’s body, as though to protect him from danger.

 

"Sleep well,” he whispered in his ear. “I am here to watch over you."

 

Both fell asleep, exhausted but happy to be together once more.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------

 

It had been two weeks since the fire on the Terran base and the remaining Terrani had left Thendara. John had recovered almost completely, under the attentive care of Sherlock.

 

It was the dawn of a beautiful summer’s morning. The sun was a red ball rising slowly over the horizon, illuminating Thendara.

 

Regis had insisted that John leave the room in which he had spent the previous year, and take possession of the suite of rooms assigned to the Heir of Hastur.  The rooms were much more spacious, and the dawn filled them with a bright reddish glow.

 

Sherlock awoke to the light and the feeling of an empty bed. He jumped straight up looking for John, finally seeing him on the balcony, gazing out at the dawn. Sherlock got out of bed, pulled on his robe and stood in the balcony doorway.

 

He had noticed that John sometimes felt the need to be alone.

 

In all likelihood, all the thoughts and feelings he picked up from the people around him had to be annoying.

He could not imagine what it would mean to have the Hastur gift and be linked to a matrix as powerful as the Sword of Aldones.

 

"Remember that in future, so you do not make me angry." John said, without turning around.

 

Sherlock flinched, surprised that John had noticed his presence.

 

"I always notice, I always feel," John retorted as if Sherlock had spoken aloud.

 

He shook his head.

 

"Sorry,” he continued; “More and more I realize that what I’m hearing is not someone talking, but just thinking! Beltran said that I'll get used to this change also. I just hope it's the last one, because I'm tired of having to start training again from the beginning on some new aspect of this ‘ _gift’_."

 

"Are you okay?" Sherlock finally managed to ask.

 

"Yes, I'm fine,” John reassured him. “I woke early and wanted to see the sunrise over the city. I always thought that the dawn was the most magical moment of the day. It is like the world is full of peace and serenity. Everything seems to be as perfect as it is possible to be."

 

Sherlock approached John, and wrapped his arms around his hips with his chin resting on John’s left shoulder.

 

"Isn’t it a wonderful show?" John asked, looking at the sun that was almost completely visible.

 

"You are right,” Sherlock replied, “It's really a fantastic show."

 

So saying, he kissed John’s neck, and he in turn smiled, raising a hand to stroke Sherlock’s head.

 

"I don’t think you're watching the sunrise," he whispered.

 

"No,” Sherlock agreed, gently nibbling on John’s neck, “But I guarantee you that what I'm looking at is just as wonderful."

 

John shuddered.

 

"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked worried.

 

"Yes,” sighed John. “You can continue if you want."

 

"As my Lord commands,” joked Sherlock, moving his face to the other shoulder. “I would not want to neglect any part of your neck, my Lord John!"

 

"I heard about Irene,” John said, resting his hands on Sherlock’s; “How do you feel?"

 

Irene Adler had been sentenced to life imprisonment by the  _Comyn_  Council for treason, conspiracy and attempted murder. She would be locked up in the prisons of Caer Donn for the rest of her life. Mycroft had obtained an annulment of her marriage to Sherlock, even though the child born of their union was recognized as a legitimate heir of the youngest of Holmes.

 

"She was never really my wife,” Sherlock replied. “I'm sorry for my daughter’s sake, but I'm happy to be rid of that manipulative bitch!”

 

He paused for a while before saying, “I know Regis wants you marry Lyanna Lindir."

 

John turned in Sherlock’s arms.

 

"I cannot say no,” he said, looking into his eyes. “I have to give the family another heir. My son with Mary has been recognized as my rightful heir because they discovered he has  _Laran;_ but there has to be another child, in case something were to happen to him. But I was clear: I will NEVER part from you!"

 

"I should hope so!” snapped Sherlock. “Fate will not part me from you easily, John Regis Winston Hastur!"

 

John stroked the face of Sherlock: "Nor do I want it to."

 

John turned back to see the path of the sun in the sky of Darkover.

 

"Do you think that the Terrans will return?"

 

Sherlock sat by his side. "Probably, yes,” he answered. “I don’t think they will give up easily. But we will face it all together as always. Nothing can hurt us or cause us fear if we remain together."

 

John turned to him. "And we'll be together forever."

 

Sherlock lowered his face to bring his lips to John. The kiss was gentle and tender.

 

John turned fully so he could embrace Sherlock, who wrapped him in his arms, kissing him gently.

 

The red sun continued its journey in the blue sky of Darkover, illuminating two young men united always and forever in a promise of eternal love that nothing and no one could end.

 

 

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those who have followed this long adventure.  
> Who knows! One day there may also be a sequel.
> 
> Ciao!


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